Girlfriends are underrated. I can’t say that enough. Parents, siblings, your children, yes, they can love you unconditionally too. But girlfriends, especially those in the same situation as you are (nearing or beyond thirty and single), are your equals — women who understand what you are going through and would never judge you no matter how stupid you have acted. They would always be there in the best way they can, be it text message or email or whatnot. And they, along with countless other single women, have done the most outrageous things out of love (or what seemed like it), all for the sake of escaping the gripping sadness that loneliness brings.
These are some of their stories.
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A few days ago, in between sips of Gatorade, my friend Peach Mango Pie admitted to me that she is having an affair with a married man. Peach Mango Pie is a beautiful, intelligent, successful and a very much single woman. The married man I have met only once, by chance, in the mall with Peach Mango Pie. He looked like a decent man, he smelled good, he talked well.
But he’s married.
Married Guy is so guilty about his little affair that he can’t take Peach Mango Pie to dinner or a movie. He has to be so discrete to the point that he could only take Peach Mango Pie on dates to really far places like Bulacan or Laguna or Tagaytay, or have coffee at really late hours of the night.
But wherever Married Guy took her, Peach Mango Pie went.
One night, Peach Mango Pie and Married Guy were sitting outside a Starbucks, having coffee in some suburban province (Antipolo maybe or Cainta. Peach Mango Pie lives in Makati ) when Married Guy’s phone rings. It’s his wife. He tells his wife that he’s stuck at work and won’t make it at home until the next day. The wife whispers “Liar” and hangs up.
A pebble hits Married Guy’s coffee cup and they both look at the pebble-thrower. It was Married Guy’s wife.
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Swirly Bitz is a college professor. Over carrot cake and peppermint tea the other day, she told me of her latest love(fool) story.
Swirly Bitz teaches college math. One of her students is a handsome young guy. Young Guy is a textbook charmer — a real gentleman, has a way with words, a nerdy techie but also a cool musician. And naturally, Swirly Bitz fell. Flat, face first, on the floor, blood and sweat and tears all around. She was hopelessly in love.
Swirly Bitz’ classes were towards the evening and Young Guy happened to go home to the same faraway suburban place as Swirly Bitz. Swirly Bitz has a car.
One night, Swirly Bitz saw that Young Guy was walking along the very long university avenue (oopsie, just gave away a clue) and decided to pull over. Swirly Bitz asked Young Guy to hop in. To make a long story short, she gave Young Guy a ride home.
As Young Guy descended the vehicle, Swirly Bitz reached for something in her glove compartment. Young Guy thought Swirly Bitz was going to give him an accustomed “beso” and leaned in.
Their lips missed each others cheeks and instead met one another.
Their kiss became heated and uncareful (I just made that word up). After a few minutes, they parted.
That night, Swirly Bitz checked her exams. Out of a 100 item quiz, Young Guy got only twelve correct answers.
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Extra Rice was fuming, while we had grilled chicken and buttered vegetables (three pieces of green beans), she told me this story.
After ten long years, Non Catholic Guy came back to the life of my friend Extra Rice. You see, Extra Rice and Non Catholic Guy spent three giggly albeit non-sexual years together in high school and then parted ways.
One random day, Non Catholic Guy texts Extra Rice and asks if they can have coffee.
“When?” Extra Rice asks.
“Around 1 o’clock later.” Non Catholic Guy answers.
Extra Rice looks at her watch. It’s eight in the evening. “You mean 1 o’clock tomorrow?”
“No. Later tonight” Non Catholic Guy answers.
For some reason, Extra Rice didn’t mind the abruptness and the unconventionality (ah, another new word!) of the offer and she went anyway. She was more curious, excited even, of the spontaneity of an old friend and lover.
When Extra Rice saw Non Catholic Guy at (yet another) suburban coffee shop, her heart melted. And her heart slowly jumped out of her chest as Non Catholic Guy walked faster towards her.
He didn’t even speak. He scooped her in his arms and kissed her. She was taken aback at first, but she felt the kiss was familiar and real. She kissed him back.
They broke the kiss. His hands caressed her face and she sighed deeply in his neck. As she was about to open her mouth to say something affectionate, his words drove a stake through her heart.
“I’m getting married”
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And now, my favorite.
Mango Caramel Sundae hasn’t dated in years. Which is why when she was set up on a date with an intelligent, young man who we will name Cerebro, Mango Caramel Sundae jumped at the opportunity.
On text, Cerebro lived up to his name. He was opinionated, political, humorous. He also sounded tall. He provided four to five days of teenage-like flirting on the cellphone.
The day came when Mango Caramel Sundae met with Cerebro. He said he would be the one tinkering with his laptop on the corner of the coffee shop (damn coffee shops).
And there next to the laptop sat Cerebro. He stood up. He wasn’t as tall as Mango Caramel Sundae thought. He wasn’t even as tall as Mango Caramel Sundae.
The date was pretty decent and the two were all polite, even business-like. But Mango Caramel Sunday could not deny to herself that she was disappointed.
And now Cerebro has stopped calling.
Should Mango Caramel Sundae mourn over a guy she’s not even crazy about? Does she miss the guy or what the guy represents? Is there a chance that it’s Mango Caramel Sundae’s fault that she was born tall? Should Mango Caramel Sunday send him growth pills?
Submit your answers.
