Tuesday, December 16, 2003
In deep water or shit, who knows?
It's been sometime. The most siginificant thing that's happened is that Dale now calls me up on the phone everyday, on weekdays. He sends me funny stuff on the net. He's told me stories about his family, his own adventures and misadventures. We went out last week. We had dinner at this Indian-Malaysian-Indonesian resto where the food was great. Fantastic curry.
He is such a good conversationalist. My only worry is that he gets bored with me because when I'm with him, I'm just so relaxed. And when I fee that way, I have a tendency to just drown in silence. I'm hardly the sharp wit and funny. I simply like to hear his voice and see his cute smile.
Art has started calling me up again. Poor guy. I can sense he really wants to go out with me on his own, without telling Ana (his wife) about it. But I don't suppose he'll ever get down to doing it, as Ana supports him financially. He wouldn't want to risk losing that. Not that I take it against him, nor am I being judgmental. I just wish he'd get enough courage to do it.
As for this love affair with Francis, it's going nowhere. The last time I saw him was three weeks ago. Since then, I've only been in contact with him through the phone. I don't think he can afford having an affair financially. Neither does he have time for it. I've decided to just treat him like the rest of 'em dickheads: If he calls, great; if not, fine. I don't love him, of course. I just want to love, or feel that I'm in love. But I suppose I'm too old to fall in love like a young woman.
Do I love Dale? Yes, I love him. What is he to me? He can be my entire universe but that would be unwise. So that's where I am, with Dale. I will not pretend that I don't wish that he were mine, or dream that he leaves his wife for me. I will not be such a hypocrite. He calls me up everyday, weekdays. That is enough for me. Surprisingly, everything is easy with him. No pain, no difficult questions. It's actually painless with him.
He says he likes talking to me, and the last time, that I was "cookin'." He's such a sweetie. He's given me a book to read, by Nancy Friday, on women's sexual fantasies. He's offered to lend me his DVD movies and when I declined, saying I didn't have a player, he offered to give me one, as a Christmas present. Of course, I declined.
I'm moving in - or trying to move in - to a house I've rented. It's time I lived on my own again. I've been in my parents' house long enough. Dale says he's bringing pizza as a houswarming dinner. Now, here's the complication: Darius and Ryan, not to mention Nelson.
Nelson's actually helping me out with the rent. Darius has bought me an air mattress, augmented my budget for the repainting, and has very generously given me his bamboo set for the living room. He'd have given me that dining set as well if I hadn't insisted that it would be too big for the house.
Darius
Darius, 44, Persian, dental surgeon, separated, with two college kids. We've dated several times already but we hadn't had sex. Not that he's not interested. He likes to hug and kiss. He treats me "proper" like I were an exclusive Catholic school girl. Well, I was, but that was eons ago. He's actually very sweet, a great guy. And what legs. he stands 6'1", very broad of shoulders, great chest, and thighs like great tree trunks, all muscle, hard and strong. He plays soccer the old fashioned way: rough and violent. But he's the most gentle of men.
Ryan
Ryan's a 24-year-old Peace Corps volunteer based in the province, some three hours away from Manila by bus. He's very bright, very sweet and, I bet, really horny. Small guy, very intense, and thinks himself the man. Amusing. I'd like to know how it is to be with a young guy who can last all night. He can't wait to come home to me. We'd agreed that he could come visit and stay the weekend once a month. We'd also agreed to present him to people as my nephew.
Now, all these men would love to spend some time with me in my house. They would just love to help me warm up the place, if you know what I mean. Except for Darius, he's made that clear. He was going to go by the book with me, as if this time around, he was gonna do it right. Refreshing, to be honest. But sometimes, I feel guilty to be acting the proper colegiala when I'm with him. Oh, well.
This will take a lot of skill in time management and memory work. Creativity and imagination takes center stage here. Laurent, my officemate, friend and neighbor, is going to freak out. But he's okay. I get along well with him and his wife. There's another one in the same subdivision and she's okay, too.
Ominous move
There's a nagging feeling at the back of my mind. It seems that this move is fraught with difficulties. Like I'm forcing things to happen. I've rented out rooms and an apartment for years. I'm no newbie in this. Yet, this time, it feels so difficult to accomplish. For one, my car has been undergoing major repairs. Of course, it's an 11-year-old car, what do you expect. Next, one of the three small rooms in the house is reserved for the stuff the owner left behind. (She's in Dubai, and left her neighbor and friend to act as her attorney-in-fact with regard the house.) I want to transfer all this stuff to the other, smaller room so I can have this bigger room to use.
Then again, the living room looks really great now (or so I'm told by Laurent) after having the walls repainted a warm caramel yellow and the plain, unpainted lywood ceiling, varnished a dark brown. The big home entertainment system cabinet I had repainted a shade of maple brown, from its original color of - take this - hot pink.
The walls of the room with the only windows on the second floor are painted this horrible hot pink color as well. I have to go around this. I'll probably make a deal with the caretaker to change this color and repaint it in its original color before I decide to let go of the house. I intend to show her first how lovely I can transform the place, so she softens a lot toward me and I can manipulate her to acquiesce to my plans. Mwahahahaha!
He is such a good conversationalist. My only worry is that he gets bored with me because when I'm with him, I'm just so relaxed. And when I fee that way, I have a tendency to just drown in silence. I'm hardly the sharp wit and funny. I simply like to hear his voice and see his cute smile.
Art has started calling me up again. Poor guy. I can sense he really wants to go out with me on his own, without telling Ana (his wife) about it. But I don't suppose he'll ever get down to doing it, as Ana supports him financially. He wouldn't want to risk losing that. Not that I take it against him, nor am I being judgmental. I just wish he'd get enough courage to do it.
As for this love affair with Francis, it's going nowhere. The last time I saw him was three weeks ago. Since then, I've only been in contact with him through the phone. I don't think he can afford having an affair financially. Neither does he have time for it. I've decided to just treat him like the rest of 'em dickheads: If he calls, great; if not, fine. I don't love him, of course. I just want to love, or feel that I'm in love. But I suppose I'm too old to fall in love like a young woman.
Do I love Dale? Yes, I love him. What is he to me? He can be my entire universe but that would be unwise. So that's where I am, with Dale. I will not pretend that I don't wish that he were mine, or dream that he leaves his wife for me. I will not be such a hypocrite. He calls me up everyday, weekdays. That is enough for me. Surprisingly, everything is easy with him. No pain, no difficult questions. It's actually painless with him.
He says he likes talking to me, and the last time, that I was "cookin'." He's such a sweetie. He's given me a book to read, by Nancy Friday, on women's sexual fantasies. He's offered to lend me his DVD movies and when I declined, saying I didn't have a player, he offered to give me one, as a Christmas present. Of course, I declined.
I'm moving in - or trying to move in - to a house I've rented. It's time I lived on my own again. I've been in my parents' house long enough. Dale says he's bringing pizza as a houswarming dinner. Now, here's the complication: Darius and Ryan, not to mention Nelson.
Nelson's actually helping me out with the rent. Darius has bought me an air mattress, augmented my budget for the repainting, and has very generously given me his bamboo set for the living room. He'd have given me that dining set as well if I hadn't insisted that it would be too big for the house.
Darius
Darius, 44, Persian, dental surgeon, separated, with two college kids. We've dated several times already but we hadn't had sex. Not that he's not interested. He likes to hug and kiss. He treats me "proper" like I were an exclusive Catholic school girl. Well, I was, but that was eons ago. He's actually very sweet, a great guy. And what legs. he stands 6'1", very broad of shoulders, great chest, and thighs like great tree trunks, all muscle, hard and strong. He plays soccer the old fashioned way: rough and violent. But he's the most gentle of men.
Ryan
Ryan's a 24-year-old Peace Corps volunteer based in the province, some three hours away from Manila by bus. He's very bright, very sweet and, I bet, really horny. Small guy, very intense, and thinks himself the man. Amusing. I'd like to know how it is to be with a young guy who can last all night. He can't wait to come home to me. We'd agreed that he could come visit and stay the weekend once a month. We'd also agreed to present him to people as my nephew.
Now, all these men would love to spend some time with me in my house. They would just love to help me warm up the place, if you know what I mean. Except for Darius, he's made that clear. He was going to go by the book with me, as if this time around, he was gonna do it right. Refreshing, to be honest. But sometimes, I feel guilty to be acting the proper colegiala when I'm with him. Oh, well.
This will take a lot of skill in time management and memory work. Creativity and imagination takes center stage here. Laurent, my officemate, friend and neighbor, is going to freak out. But he's okay. I get along well with him and his wife. There's another one in the same subdivision and she's okay, too.
Ominous move
There's a nagging feeling at the back of my mind. It seems that this move is fraught with difficulties. Like I'm forcing things to happen. I've rented out rooms and an apartment for years. I'm no newbie in this. Yet, this time, it feels so difficult to accomplish. For one, my car has been undergoing major repairs. Of course, it's an 11-year-old car, what do you expect. Next, one of the three small rooms in the house is reserved for the stuff the owner left behind. (She's in Dubai, and left her neighbor and friend to act as her attorney-in-fact with regard the house.) I want to transfer all this stuff to the other, smaller room so I can have this bigger room to use.
Then again, the living room looks really great now (or so I'm told by Laurent) after having the walls repainted a warm caramel yellow and the plain, unpainted lywood ceiling, varnished a dark brown. The big home entertainment system cabinet I had repainted a shade of maple brown, from its original color of - take this - hot pink.
The walls of the room with the only windows on the second floor are painted this horrible hot pink color as well. I have to go around this. I'll probably make a deal with the caretaker to change this color and repaint it in its original color before I decide to let go of the house. I intend to show her first how lovely I can transform the place, so she softens a lot toward me and I can manipulate her to acquiesce to my plans. Mwahahahaha!
