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By Maan Villar

Sunday, November 25, 2012


Maybe I still am affected by a comment my friend made this one time she caught me in the middle of obsessively and repetitively reading and digesting Jullie Yap-Daza’s blog and articles over the web, she said that she fears for me as “all these mistress stuff is getting into my head”. Well, that was an understatement, what she failed to look into was my personal affairs – the mistress shenanigan is slowly weaving its way into my realities.


     In the pursuit of social acceptance and vain pursuits, I chose to date the man any woman would dream of. He is established; he is a model slash actor, has a whole array of different gigs on the side, talented, smart, very tall, uber handsome and yes all the other things you have on your checklist. He is typical content on my Facebook profile – to envy, to pore a few minutes over and to make good gossip with esp. coming from a heartbreaking ordeal, he was the perfect excuse that I have moved on. (Do not throw eggs at me for this, everyone does it, I could safely say that we project our better selves as a social and virtual requirement over at Facebook or Twitter, no one is to blame but the originators which is man. And yes, give me the liberty of philosophizing this phenomenon as a little segue from my heartaches.


     What is there to rant about when here he is: the walking checklist of my ideal man? Well, for one thing, it is a B.S. (Big Secret) and a fact that he is married with a son and that he is still with his wife. Many of my friends are ecstatic to meet him, even coercing me to bring him all the way up to Baguio, thinking that finally, this is it for me. But nah! Not really. No. I used to be so grounded to my three principles in my relationships or my three commandments: first is to not get married not unless divorce is a part of our legal system, second is to marry or be in a relationship for love and never for convenience (right now Mr. Man is convenient for my vanities) and lastly remain single until the right man comes along. Also, as a part or a subsection of these rules is to not attempt men who are a) in a relationship with someone, b) is a serial womanizer and worst of all c) is married (even much worse is with kid, that’s the big red stop sign and foghorn right there).


     I am not yet in the stage to really give judgment and act appropriately in my current reality but having broken all my rules, maybe it is worth the ride. Besides, I am confident enough to write and say that it would be an ant’s bite or a small prick from a needle in case I get hurt because I would not really give my heart as a choice, I would get hurt because I know I have wasted time with the wrong man again. It is the experience or perhaps the demands of the time that I would get from this whole show. (He is just show quality at some point anyway as what my friend Abel and I have discussed.)


     I know he loves her, he has the car sticker of their family, a portrait of them as a couple inside his wallet, pictures of his wife and a rally of texts lighting up his phone. I know that what we have is just a diversion from his problems at home and my diversion from my loneliness also a dash of flavor and inspiration but I enjoy it so much that people look at us together because we look good together (according to the majority) as we are a mestizo and mestiza couple, I want to parade him around town, take pictures with him and feel that I could bring him anywhere. Vain pursuits they are but our constant hesitation to the emotional strings may cause us to get too woven into a dangerous love affair, the more we say no to urges do we find ourselves getting deeply more attached. It was too abstract that previous line but Friday night is an example. He sang one of my favorite Freestyle songs on stage and every time the words “I love you” comes up, he looks so intently and lovingly at me that I my breathing literally stopped and the world stopped – like I can’t hear my friends and see anyone else esp. that moment we shared the stage together when he asked me to come up there. I was stopping myself initially to feel this way, avoiding him looking at me, but it was so weird the effect we had on the crowd that people were sappy with our presence and the couples snuggled closer to each other after our little scene onstage. I stop myself from getting that cozy feeling when he holds me so tight when we walk, ride the bus, or say our good-byes at the end of each day – it is difficult to shun away sincere emotions.


     Here is one of the harms caused in getting too caught-up with my books, bringing the text and made-up worlds of these writers into reality. I indulge in it maybe as a source of inspiration, and also to feel more of R. K. Narayan in “The Guide”. Being in this situation, I have caused myself to believe less in love and focus more on my dreams, as what Jullie Yap-Daza puts it (and I am just paraphrasing), mistresses are like men, they have more time to build on their futures and careers and half of the time they can devote to romance. Maybe it is a good thing and a part of getting back on track where a minor slip on the road that will make me dash forward or maybe it would backfire despite all my reasoning as the cause is a fool’s one, vanity.


     Despite my decreasing belief in love, I would not deny that my being romantic is still intact as it is a requirement in my artistry. I have proven now that love and romanticism could be separated. I am known to the fact that this is going to last just like a falling star as it meets the horizon and that there is that one person also looking for me and we would find each other soon. (I was being a romantic when I said that, mind you.)




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