not your typical medstudent

I’ve made up with Friendsterblogs and now we’re back together.

I admit, maybe most of the time, it was my fault because I was impatient with him while he, as always, was stubborn and refused to budge when I asked him to align my photos at the center and not at the left, forcing me to make my paragraphs improperly captioning the next photo. He also refused to provide me with enough space in between my paragraphs even if I’ve been repeatedly asking him to. So, I finally said, this isn’t gonna work and we decided to cool-off things for a while. I started seeing Blogger who was such a WHORE and brought strange anonymous know-it-all men into my life who made me feel violated and only pissed me off royally. So, I figured, Friendsterblogs was as good as it gets so now, I’m back.

Obviously, I’m addicted to blogging and have started to think of them as a better venue to pour my unrequitted love and obsession than men.

I think I need help.

One particular blogging episode that miffed me was when an anonymous blogger (what the heck, his name is hugh7) had the nerve to comment on my own personal opinions regarding a certain post, correcting certain grammatical errors and spouting information he most likely downloaded from another Internet site. It was either that or he was being too defensive about being uncircumcized and spend hours online fostering his fascination with his own penis by researching it on the Internet. First of all, I never made any assumptions that I was a master at all things surgical or penis-related. Second, I certainly do not take a lot of things seriously, hence, my life and why I am still not married (LOL. Justr kidding) so this reflects on the things I blog about as well. Third, if I had wanted to provide a vast of educational information to the readers of my blog, I would have hit my library of medical books, researched more and cited my references as well. But I don’t, because if I had to do some major researching for a certain blog topic, then I’d rather spend that precious time reading Harrison’s Internal Medicine and acing the daily 25-point quizzes. The truth is, I blog for the mere purpose of having a venue to relax from the bore that is my life and to just be able to voice out my own personal opinions. I do not want you to suck the fun out of my blogging by correcting me and citing historical and cultural facts that praised the uncircumcized penis. I do not want you to tell me I’m wrong because last time I checked, that was MY blog and I am after all entitled to my own opinion.

Besides, if I wanted someone to fight and argue with constantly, then I should have just gotten back with my ex-fiancee.

But enough about hugh7, he’s so not worth all that writing space. And don’t bother looking for that post and his comment, I’ve already deleted it. I cringe at the audacity of him sharing precious writing space in MY blog and I hope that would have been that last I hear from him.

I’ve also started another anonymous blog that has became my own hideaway for posts that have been occupying my thoughts and should never be verbalized in public (or at least not, if there was anyway that my name and picture would ever be linked to these. LOL), what I really think about when some people ask my opinion (and not the sugar-coated half-truths or vague replies which they probably knew but didn’t want to hear) and amusing anecdotes regarding the tragedy that is my dating life. God forbid that anybody significant (in other words, ex-es, previous hook-ups, people I work with, my parents) actually connects that blog to me.

Thank God to free Yahoo! mail. Muwahahahaha (my lousy attempt to do the creepy evil laugh).

To my ex-es and the guys I’ve dated before, don’t panic. Your names were not mentioned and I was nice with my posts about you. Or at least, I tried to. Surely, some things are just too funny to not be written about in its most ugliest detail.

It was all part of research. Trust me. *wink, wink*

But enough about blogging (which has been eating up a majority of my study time nowadays, hence, the barely passing scores I get after Doc Mimi’s Internal Medicine quizzes). I’ve also been trying to search for a nice quiet Internet Cafe that allows smoking (Yeah, yeah, I know. I should quit. Yadayadayada… But I have my most profound thoughts while I’m smoking and I write better with one hand on the keyboard and the other, holding a cigarette). My old trusty Internet shop had stopped allowing smoking a few months back and I’ve been suffering through writing posts in my bedroom and lugging my heavy laptop instead to school for the free Internet access. It’s starting to do quite a number on my back and I don’t think I can take anymore of this.

So, anybody there who can recommend me to a nice Internet Cafe in Zamboanga City that allows smoking?  I would be extremely grateful to you for the rest of my life.

Lovelife wise, TFO and I are still on but I seriously have to break things up with this guy. It’s my fault, I think I’m bored and he’s not helping with all these complications and stuff he has to make me put up with. I’ve also developed a stupid thing for this other chap and like any budding relationship I’ve gotten into, I’ve started flirting with this guy in my head, making up conversations with him and thinking of witty seductive lines I can use the next time I see him, and then clamming up and smiling like a half-brained dimwit infront of him.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. (Viciously banging my head on the desk repeatedly)

If I lived in a perect world, I would have had no qualms about asking him out to this Sponge Cola concert which my aunt had given me two tickets for. But I don’t so, here’s to skipping that darn concert.

Crap. These are one those times when I wished I was in one of those long-term relationships that I wouldn’t have any problem with dragging my boyfriend to anywhere I wanted to.

I’ll take advantage of this opportunity though to brag about the new skills I’ve developed lately as a result of my addiction to blogging which is discovering how to link. LOL. Here are the posts you missed out from my short absence from the Friendster blogging world:

Status: 27, Single

Being The Literary Idiot

Listen Quietly and Hear Your Uterus Weeping

Missing The Younger Me

Only in Liloy

The White House Telenovela of Sheryl and Romnick

Board Review Classes and studying for it is still as boring as ever so I wouldn’t want to waste precious Internet time talking about that. However, I’ll end this post by a funny story regarding one time when Doc Rex was discussing anti-Hypertensive meds (or was that for CHF? Sorry, this is Ms. Poor Long-term Memory you’re talking to here):

Doc Rex: There’s another drug that contains nitrates and was no longer recommended for use. I forgot what it was. Anyone?

Classmate: Ahmmm… Kamoteng Kahoy?

You don’t get it? Guess you just had to be there to enjoy it.

I’ve been having some problems with blogging through Friendster, especially with regard to being able to align the pics properly so I’m writing at Blogger for now. Anybody interested to read my thoughts, check out http://sexymamae.blogspot.com or just click here 

Hope to hear from your comments soon…

I was checking out the messages from my other websites when I received this message from one of my more secretive sites (meaning, one I’ve tried to remain as anonymous as ever) as a reply to a one of my posts.

 

“have you tried girl to girl? kse ako m very anxious to try it….. you think you’re up for it? or better yet, lets have a threesome with my guy? if you dont wanna do my guy, then just watch us while we do it? kse fantasy ko rin my watcher….what do you think?”

 

Huwaaaat???

Ewwwww, ewwww, ewwwww…

Okay, so there will always be the curiousity. And some women really are hot (like Nicole S of Pussycat Dolls) but seriously, I can’t really imagine myself being sexual with any girl. I don’t find breasts bumping into each other particularly hot. Nor do I find it hot to think of my legs intertwined with someone else’s legs who are just as smooth and as hairless as mine.

Just thinking about it… Ewwwwwwwww….

Give me Piolo Pascual and a penis anytime =)

Most girls in my class are now weight-loss addicts. It’s not even being health conscious, but rather, weight-gain conscious. In lieu of that, I now post my weight gains and lost for the past few years.

This is me, college, sirca 1998

 

 

 

 

 

 

And this is me, satiated by a love that wasn’t meant to be, after my 1st year in medical school, year 2004.

 

 

 

Prior to clerkship, around September 2005, I decided to enroll myself into the gym, worked out for about two months and lost some weight.

 

 

 

And then, one year in the community (where life was extremely sedentary, and all you had to do most of the day was wake up, eat, occasionally read books and go to sleep) followed by internship made me gain weight again. Here’s me, during one of my least toxic rotations, Psychiatry, around the end of July 2007.

 

 

 

 

So, I decided to hit the gym, AGAIN, and enrolled for two months. Here’s me, December 2007, during my birthday celebration at Vertigo.

 

 

 

And then, I got into another relationship, got too busy to work out since he seemed to be taking up too much of my time, plus, I got busy working on my research that I wasn’t able to continue my exercise regimen. Here’s me with Janet and Jackie, April 2008.  

 

 

 

So, I joined the gym again and have been working it out for a month. I’ve temporarily quit because of the “red flow” but I hope to back to my routine by next week. Here’s me, after semi-dieting and one month of working out at the gym.

 

 

 

Okay, so, you can’t really see my entire body, at least, not enough to gauge if there was any difference. Hehehe… But I feel better nowadays as compared to a few months ago. I don’t really aim to be really thin, I can’t imagine myself that way, I just want a smaller waist, arms and legs. Plus, I do miss my college days body though and I still hold on to a few clothes from back then, even if they don’t fit me anymore. I still dream of looking as good in those clothes as I used back then. Sure, I looked a little “Manang” then and I didn’t have that much boobs, but I still missed looking like the old me.

Kaya ko to… Hehehe…

 As I calmly lounge infront of my laptop, searching through Bearshare for possible songs to download, while replying to online messages from Friendster, Multiply, WAYN and Manilatonite, I couldn’t help but notice the harried nature of my classmates, zoning out the rest of people in the Board Review room with their MP3s and Ipods, speedreading books after books after books, their faces plagued with a mixture of sweat and panic.

 And I wonder why I’m the only one in the room whose panic button has not been turned on

It’s not really because I’m more confident or that being a PT graduate, I have experience in taking the Board Exams. I just finally accepted the fact that whether I worry about it or not, it won’t change a thing about my situation. Whether or not I panic, I still have to work my ass off. So, for now, I’m a lot more relaxed than most.

Surprisingly, however, I was struck by a bolt of compassion today. For years I was content to hoard this survival knowledge for myself, receiving no small amount of pleasure from the fact that right now everyone’s life sucks but mine. Thus, I have made the decision to, for the first time ever, release my list of exam survival tactics so that the masses may revel and join me in my stress-free glory.

Mae Arevalo’s 9 Tips on How to Cope with the Exams

 

1.       Read.

Of course! What the hell did you expect me to say afterall? You honestly can’t expect to pass if you don’t read, dumbass… Consider Snell, Schwartz, Guyton, Katsung and Harrison’s your new boyfriends and the only guys you’ll be sleeping with for the next few months. As for the amount of reading matter, going through High-yield Anatomy, Big Snell, small Snell, Netter and UPEC Reviewer to pass Anatomy, for example, may make you feel better but it won’t really improve your chances as much as you think. It takes up a lot of your time and you end up wasting most of it on a lot of information that might not come out during the exam anyway. Ditch the security blanket and stick to at the most 2 books only per subject. Memorize them by heart.

 

2.       Sleep.

If you’re sleepy, sleep. Don’t be one of those people who stay awake until 4 AM just to finish reading. Trust me, you’ll be paying for that dearly the next day. Not only will you be making up for the well-needed sleep in the middle of the afternoon the next day (which you could have used instead for studying) but you’ll be walking around dazed, yawning repeatedly from the lack of sleep, your eyelids a mere toothpick away from drooping.

Of course, when I say sleep, I don’t mean you go to sleep whenever you feel like it. Organize your daily routine and set a proper sleeping time, say 12 midnight. When the clock strikes 12, drop those yellow dermatographs and get some shut eye. To at least get 6 hours of sleep, you should be awake by 6-7 am. Anytime between 6 AM-12 midnight is fair game. For those reading about isovolumetric contraction, hemoglobin dissociation curves and partial pressure of carbon dioxide and unable to stay awake in the middle of the day, allow yourselves some quality nap time of 30 mins-1 hour. Anything more than that is no longer considered a nap but a Vanilla Sky movie.

Music does help so keep those MP3s and IPods fully charged at all times. The blaring music of Flo Rida in your earphones will make you want to dance and keep you from falling asleep. Plus, your version of “She opens my eyes, oh my Levator… Palpebrae superioris, my levator,” may help you remember some stuff better. Be careful though when you start singing to Leona Lewis “Bleeding Love” while studying with some friends. For all you know, they might be secretly plotting to strangle you and your poorly-developed vocal cords. Now if your Circadian rhythm sucks and you just can’t seem to keep those eyes open, feel free to take up an addiction. Coffee is the most common choice of picker-upper. For first-timers, half a pack of one 3-in-1 sachet will suffice. For those who have been consuming coffee regularly but can only take up to 1-2 cups per day, I recommend one sachet of Nescafe’s 3-in-1 Intense. For the confirmed coffee addicts or those with caffeine running through their veins, one sachet of imported coffee from the barter (especially the 4-in-1 ones with Tongkat Ali, whatever that is) might work for you. If it doesn’t, you can always chug on half a pack of a 25 g packet of instant coffee. Just make sure you live near a hospital just in case you start getting those PVCs. If none of that works, other choices for addiction are nicotine, Redbull, ginseng and shabu. Hey, it’s your funeral.

Back in my PT board review days, a popular drug used by some of my classmates to improve their studying was Glutaphos. I’ve never personally tried it but I heard it keeps you awake longer and makes you remember things better. Of course, you risk feeling like you’re floating one feet from the ground the next day but like I said, hey, it’s your funeral.

 

3.       Stick ‘em up the wall

If you have to remember something at all costs, and you keep forgetting about it, write it in a post-it/ bondpaper/manila paper/cartolina/the back of a calendar page and stick it against the wall in your study area. Chances are, if you keep looking at it for the next few months, you get a visual memory of the information etched in your brain and you increase your chances of remembering it more.

    

4.       Stay happy. Eat.

As a friend once kept reiterating to me, “It’s better for you to be fat but pass the exam one time than to be thin and fail the exam and retake.”

Ever noticed why you don’t see any of those thin, young, lanky supermodels laughing or smiling? My theory is that they look unhappy because they’re always hungry. Ever noticed why none of them end up as doctors, lawyers, engineers, rocket scientists and end up instead becoming TV talk show hosts, infomercial endorsers and housewives to has-been celebrities? Lack of food + Unhappiness = Low IQ.

I rest my case.

 

5.       Study with a friend.

Everybody has his or her own personal studying strategy. Some people prefer complete and total silence. Some prefer to actively discuss the topic in an animate battle of wits, engaging other people in mini-debates based on the variety of reference sources read. Some prefer reading quietly but occasionally throwing each other questions and answers at the top of their heads. Whichever might be your chosen strategy, you increase your chances of improving your study time if you study with a friend. You and your friend motivate each other to stay awake, some things are better remembered when discussed intensively with someone and heard through someone’s voice (auditory memory) and you have someone who can confirm the correct answers to a few doubtful questions. Besides, two heads will always be better than one.   

Of course, this will only work if your friend is also studying. Your Yaya/boyfriend/Mom/Dad/sister/Number 2 totally don’t count. Your friend’s studying strategy should also be the same as yours. If you’re the type who likes reading BRS Physio quietly and he’s the type who likes actively debating on V/Q mismatch, then, you’re better off studying alone in your bedroom instead.

 

6.       Give yourself some “Me” time.

If you study 24/7, 7 days a week, 30 days a month, you’re probably one of those people who don’t have a life. A potential topnotcher maybe, but friendless, loveless, a stranger to your family, has not set foot into church for months, an NB/GSB (No Boyfriend/Girlfriend Since Birth) or has a boyfriend/girlfriend who is secretly thinking of dumping you. Don’t let the exams consume your very being. Get a life, for God’s sake!   

Set aside at least 1 day in a week for your “Me” time. Go watch a movie with a friend, attend mass, cook dinner for your family, fool around with your girlfriend or that video scandal you just Bluetoothed to your cellphone,  answer your e-mails, update your Friendster blog, play pranks on your brother, go crazy with Unlimited Texting, watch the entire Season 1 of Gossip Girl. Whatever you do, don’t pick up your books and dermatograph during your “Me” time. You only have one day of relaxation and six days of perspiration. Use it wisely. 

 

7.       Hoard the lucky charms.

When I was reviewing for my PT Boards, my classmates and I wanted to improve our chances of passing so we participated in this Novena for St. Jude which we were told was the Patron Saint for those who have something they desperately want. This included duplicating about a hundred copies of his devotional prayer, lighting a candle and praying to his image everyday in a chapel in Makati, where one of my classmates lived (I was living in Quezon City that time) and religiously leaving about 10 copies of his devotional prayer under his stone image per day. We all passed thankfully, though until now, I still don’t know if it was St. Jude or the review center and our own group study sessions that made the whole thing possible. Plus, I was told by a friend that St. Jude is not the patron saint for those who have something they desperately want but those who have lost something valuable and wants it to be found as soon as possible.

Anyway, I’m totally falling way off-base the topic here. My point is there’s really nothing wrong in believing that a little bit of luck might help. You have nothing to lose anyway. But don’t depend on luck too much. In my opinion, luck is akin to a Sodium (Na)-Glucose transporter. At a plasma glucose level of less than 250 mg/dl, all the glucose can be reabsorbed by the kidneys because there are plenty of transporters but at a certain point, particularly at greater than 350 mg/dl, your transporters are saturated and you get hyperglycemia. On the other hand, if there is plenty of knowledge to utilize, luck can help improve your chances. But if there just isn’t enough knowledge to begin with, no matter how much luck you keep accumulating, none of it helps improve your chances.

So, go ahead, light a pink candle at Fort Pilar. If you’re heart starts pounding upon receiving a chain letter that tells you, you will have bad luck for three years if you ignore this letter, don’t panic and just e-mail the letter to 10 of your distant and foreign friends in your Yahoo! Address book. Go crazy buying red underwear, green notebooks, rabbit’s foot, four-leaf clovers and potted mini-bamboos. Forward those “Do not delete without forwarding to 15 friends or you will fail the board exams” text messages. Have your entire bedroom and study area Feng Shui-ed. Don’t open an umbrella inside the house, walk under a ladder, cross the path of a black cat, bring food from a wake or funeral inside your house, stand in the middle when having your picture taken with two other people, get married on the same year as your younger sister, cut your fingernails at night, cut your hair at night, sweep the floor at night nor take some money out of your wallet at night.

After all, every little bit helps.  

 

8.       Evaluate your lovelife.

If you don’t have a boyfriend or a girlfriend, this isn’t exactly the right time to be telling your friends that you’re ready to fall inlove again. It is not the right time to ask them to set you up with their friends. Investing in a new and serious relationship can be mentally and emotionally stressful and might take up your valuable study time. Reserve the boylets and chikabebes after you pass the exams. Trust me, you score more points being Mike Kwazowsky, MD License # 23456 than just being Mr. Mike Kwazowsky anyway. If possible, avoid textmates. They take up too much of your study time and your hard-earned allowance. Most guys who are contented to text you “You looked good this morning. We passed each other in the halls but you didn’t know I was there. You smelled so good,” and don’t have the guts to introduce themselves to you in person aren’t exactly that good-looking anyway.

For those who do have a boyfriend or a girlfriend, evaluate your relationship. Try to see where the two of you are heading. Think of it this way, let’s say you don’t pass the exams, how do you think your boyfriend/girlfriend will react? If you feel even just a simple inkling that he/she might not like you anymore, by all means, dump him/her now, as early as possible. Don’t waste your time and your neurons loving someone who might not love you anymore if you no longer fit his personal qualifications. He is not that good a catch as he thinks he is. Besides, you are reviewing for one of the most important exam in your life and you have a lot to cover in such little time. Don’t waste those neurons explaining yourself repeatedly to a narrow-minded person who thinks he’s always right. Don’t waste that valuable study time having senseless arguments about past arguments regarding ex-boyfriends and ex-girlfriends. Don’t waste your energy loving the un-lovable. He’s not worth it.

 

9.       Fuck it.

There’s no point in stressing yourself by worrying about an exam that’s still six months away. There’s no point in panicking. Panicking will get you nowhere. Instead of wasting all that energy incessantly thinking about failing the exam, why not use that energy making sure that you don’t fail the exam?    

At the end of the day, when you’ve done all of your very best, the only thing left to do really is to say “The hell with it” and leave everything in God’s hands.  If you worked hard enough, He will take care of you. If you didn’t, no amount of prayers can help you, no matter how much of a testmanship genius you think you are.

 

So there you have it. Now that you’ve had the unique opportunity to break into my mind and pillage it for the upcoming exams, I hope you’re happy with yourself. I hope you take this knowledge and apply it to your own lives. If you do, I guarantee* that you will never stress over a test again. I want to leave you with two more important things to keep in mind if the items in the above list aren’t cutting it for you:

 

1. No matter how bad you do on your exams, you can always take it again after six months.

2. Fuck it, we’re all gonna die anyway.

*Guarantee denotes no actual guarantee of anything. I haven’t passed the board exams yet, dumbass.  What makes you so sure advice on how to pass the exams from someone who hasn’t passed the board exams yet is even effective? Think, for god’s sake! Think!  

 

– inspired  from “Jeff Beck’s Finals Coping Strategies” from www.pointsinplace.com

While scanning the Internet the other day, I came upon this funny article by Collegiate Don Juan in College OTR (I forgot what OTR stands for) regarding how not to get caught cheating. In line with this, they have come up with a list of things one should always consider when considering cheating. I will of course try to modify this so that it will be culture-appropriate and user-friendly for my friends who always end up getting caught by their girlfriends, to the boyfriends of my friends who have no idea I know their stupid secrets,  and to the rest of my friends who are just morally and ethically inept that they would actually consider cheating on their current relationships. I don’t particularly advocate cheating on your significant other, but, if you’re going to do it, you might as well do it right.

Like I always tell my friends, everybody cheats.

1. Organize your lovelife.

Cheating is fun, but it can get very stressful trying to sneak around all the time. The best way to prevent all the chaos is to apply what they taught you back in kindergarten and to remember to always put everything in it’s proper place. Therefore, assign who should be Number 1, Number 2 and so on. Number 1 gets the top priority in your list after God, Mom, school/work, food and sports, the dinners with the family, the spot in your wallet, the bed you go home to, the No.1 spot in your speed dialing and majority of your allowance. 

2. Think different.

To keep from mistaking one for the other, make sure Number 2 is very different from Number 1. This includes looks, interests and especially NAMES. You don’t want to get caught whispering Kristen into Christine’s ear. Plus, having two girlfriends who look exactly the same is just stupid and not to mention, provides double the boredom factor. It takes twice faster to get sick and tired of someone who looks like Angel Locsin if you’re dating two of them.

3. Keep it phone-free.

The easiest way to get caught cheating is the cell phone. Most girlfriends see it as their constitutional right to check your phone. For those girls who swear that they don’t, trust me, as soon their boyfriend goes to the bathroom, they are already unlocking the pincode in his cellphone.  Getting caught through the cellphone text messages can be avoided by explaining to Number 2 that you see text messaging as impersonal and therefore, don’t enjoy texting. Chances are, you will not remember to delete those steamy sex-texts anyway. If your dating strategy always has to involve texting (which is more likely, how 90% of single male Filipinos nowadays court, by passing through the textmate phase), then, always remember to delete your messages in the Inbox. Don’t forget to activate the automatic deleting of messages in the Sent Folder as well.

4. Ditch Friendster.

Tell Number 2 you don’t have a Friendster. It is likely that she will try to search for you and view your profile repeatedly. Now, if your Number 1 has an IQ of more than 100, then, she’s probably figured your password somehow and will find out that Number 2 has been viewing your profile a lot. She will either: 1) confront you about Number 2 (in which case, you’re better off committing suicide) or 2) pick a fight with Number 2 and then, confront you (in which case, you’re still better off dead). If you’re simply addicted to Friendster and cannot, in any way, avoid it, better edit the Settings and change your default name to “—CHICBOYZ—” and your real name to Sean Poof Daddy.

5. Rename!

If your Number 2 is the type of girl who calls you up frequently, do not put her in your cell phone as a girl. Give her a guy’s name to throw the girlfriend off when she reviews your phone call log. Therefore, even whenever “Pareng Mike” calls you up repeatedly at the really late hours of the evening while you’re hanging out with Number 1, she won’t be suspicious at all when you tell her that “Pareng Mike” is simply having another insomnia attack and just needs someone to talk to.

6. Don’t fraternize.

Just like fraternities, nothing can break the bonds of sisterhood. Don’t date a girl in the same sorority; gossip is more prevalent in sororities than iced tea at Mr.Donut (yes, for some reason, whenever I order Iced tea, they’re always out), so take it somewhere else. Friends of your Number 1 should be preferentially avoided and bestfriends are a definite no-no… Give yourself some sense of morality, for god’s sake. Put up a few boundaries. You don’t want other people to think you put out with just anyone. Besides, it’s not like you’ll be running out of people to cheat with anyway. Last time I checked, the population of Zamboanga City is still around 7 billion.

7. The farther, the better.

Try to find  a Number 2 who lives far away from Number 1, preferably one who rarely goes into town. The same goes for school, workplace and frequent hang-outs. Visiting a girl in close proximity to you or your Number 2 only heightens the possibility of running into your Number 1 or having her catch you with your pants down, literally.  This is best done with someone who lives out of town, e.g. Ipil, Pagadian, Liloy, whom you are less likely to bump into every day, unless of course, you’re Number 1 is also from the same place. Then dating two people from the same hometown is just stupid because it is more likely that they know each other, or worse, are probably related.

8. A day at a time

Girls spend hours putting on makeup and perfume. So to risk having the evidence on you, never ever see the two girls in one day. A lip gloss stain on your collar is no way to greet your girlfriend and there aren’t really a lot of good plausible excuses to explain how it got there. Plus, unless you’re somewhere in your early 20’s, your performance level will more likely drop around the 3^rd or 4^th round so better not risk having to smile sheepishly in your birthday suit and explain why Junior can’t get it up even when your girl has been working her magic on you for hours already.

9. Tell Number 2 the truth.

If you really find the need to cheat, better fess up to Number 2 that she is not the only one in your life. If this doesn’t get you a slap in the face, then, you’re good to go… The only kind of reaction from a girl who was truly inlove with you but was raised better by her parents is if she slaps you in the face. If she doesn’t, then, she’s either obsessed with you (in which case, you enjoy the good times ahead while it lasts because it will soon be followed by horrible months of psychotic behavior and frightful stalking) or she just doesn’t care about you as much as you think (in which case, enjoy tasting someone else’s sperm because you probably aren’t the only man in her life).

10. Keep those lips sealed.

Don’t go around showing up with Number 2 in your arm at your classmate’s birthday party while Number 1 is vacationing with her family in Boracay. Be content knowing you have a Number 2, don’t try to find the need to brag about it to your friends or rubbing it in their faces. Sure, as a manifestation of their machismo, men see having a Number 2 as an elevation of their status. Plus, you figured men always take care of their own kind, therefore, they’ve got your back covered if ever Number 1 finds out. But, contrary to popular belief, men love to gossip just as much as women. So, be very careful whose face you’re rubbing your Number 2’s cleavage and long legs with. He might be that drunk guy who accidentally spills the beans to a friend of a friend of a friend of your Number 1.

If it’s not obvious yet, this blog is a satire (If you don’t know what a satire is, look it up at Wikipedia or any dictionary, for god’s sake!).  Although unlike other people, I believe there is no absolute rule in cheating and that there will always be gray lines in between the black and white, in general, I don’t like cheating when you’re supposedly in an exclusive relationship. I broke up with a few long-term relationships because they’ve cheated on me and I choose  not to fall inlove with those who do choose to cheat with me. Losers.

Now, if you’re not in an exclusive relationship, then by all means, cheat away.

None of your girlfriends will probably care anyway.    

If you’ve been an avid fan of this blog, I’m sure you know by now just how crazy I am over Piolo Pascual (in my perfect world, he’s 100% straight and all those gay rumors are just so NOT true!). I just think he’s sooo hot. You know, nice tight body, a complexion that reminded me of light coffee, perfect square jaw, manly but not dirty… Ahhh… I just wanna have a taste of those red, red lips… In line with that, a friend told me that Pond’s is sponsoring a raffle for a chance to win a date with him but that’s another story… Anyway, suffice to say, my unabashed lust for Piolo Pascual and wanting him to be the mother of my children is a manifestation that I am, yes, 100% heterosexual.

I love men. And someday, I wanna have babies with one.

Now that I have cleared that up, let us go to the jist of this blog.

I’m going to have to use fake names for everybody in this blog to respect their privacy, and to avoid any future libel suits that might come out in the future… Come on, guys, I’m jobless and I don’t have any money. Don’t sue me!

Sheila (not her real name) and I were talking the other day about a gay friend of ours, “Jean” who, being gay, has a penchant for sensing the gayness in other people. We call it their “gay-dar.” Apparently, aside from some of our friends who are confirmed gays, we also have those who are secretly denying that they are gay or even, simply unaware that they are gay. A part of our conversation went something like this:

 

SHEILA: And you know Dr. Jimmy Cricket, Jean think’s he’s gay.

ME: Yeah, me too.

SHEILA: Why? You’ve heard something about him?

ME: Well, back in highschool, he was an upperclassmen who was always with this group of popular but confirmed gays. I actually thought he was and then, years after, when I met him again, I was kinda surprised that he seemed so manly, when he used to look so girly before. And when I heard he got married, I was like, “Huh? I thought he was gay!”

SHEILA: I heard he had a relationship with another man.

ME: No… really?!

SHEILA: And Jean thinks that Noel is gay?

ME: What?

SHEILA: Yeah, that’s what he said.

ME: Oh, come on. That can’t be true… We’re pretty close. At first, when I didn’t know him that well yet, I might have had my doubts but as we’ve grow closer, I realized that he has an extremely naughty masculine side.

SHEILA: Yeah, I know. He sure knows a lot of kinky stuff.

ME: He can’t be gay.

SHEILA: Well, that’s what Jean said.

 

This went on as we enumerated our common friends one by one whose sexual preferences have been somewhat doubtful. Our penchant for discussing the sexual lives of our confirmed and possibly homosexual friends stems from the fact that we continue to live in a society that refuses to accept them, a society that makes fun of then, isolating their kind by limiting their occupational choices to comedy clubs, fashion and entertainment, forcing them to hide in secrecy and making a supposedly celebratory moment such as coming out of the closet a tragic and tearful experience instead.

This shouldn’t have been the case. They have as much right as we heterosexual men and women to be free and happy and to stand proudly as physicians, engineers, lawyers, teachers, investment bankers, or whatever they choose to be.  

For this, I salute my confirmed gay friends who have long accepted and embraced their gay-hood.

“Apir, mga sisters!”

 

People always talk about the difficulties of interracial dating. I’m not particularly well-experienced in that aspect since the only non-Filipino guy that I’ve dated was this one Chinese guy and that story didn’t last long enough for it to be worth discussing. The rest of the guys were pure Filipinos.

So instead, I’m going to talk about something close to my heart instead: Interreligion dating.

I’m a Roman Catholic. Both of my parents are Roman Catholic. As such, my parents expect me to end up with a Roman Catholic. Unfortunately, we live in a city where Muslims comprise about half of the population. It is no surprise therefore that even if my parents may forbid it, their daughter was bound to date a few Muslims along the way.   

As of to date, I think I’ve dated about four Muslim guys. One has become one of my closest “best-est” friends, another I haven’t seen in a long time but have exchanged messages with a few months ago, another one I have been hiding from and thankfully managed to avoid by changing my new number and one that I’m still seeing regularly.

Excluding all the traditions and activities that their religion requires them to fulfill, dating a Muslim isn’t really any different from dating someone of the Catholic faith. After dating two Muslim guys for quite some time (of course, not at the same time! Heller!), I used to think that Muslim guys are not into smart independent women since they are brought up to prefer women who are docile, homely and submissive. I used to think that maybe their conservative upbringing had something to do with why they aren’t as sweet and affectionate in public as they are in private. This had something to do with the fact that during those dating periods, I was missing being hugged by a guy while in a huge crowd, being kissed on the lips upon seeing me arrive, holding hands with me or slinging his arms around my shoulder as we walked together. I lived for that kind of affection and somehow, both of these guys just weren’t dishing it.

And then I met another Muslim guy who proved me wrong by giving me all of that and more.

Suffice it to say, the stereotype was viciously thrown out of the window and forgotten.

So it turns out, they are just like any other Roman Catholic boy I’ve ever dated. Some can be a little too conservative making me promise that I don’t get too drunk when I tell them I’m out drinking with some friends. Some can be just as naughty and mischievous as any hot-blooded male. Some can be too lenient that even if I’m dating someone else already, will continually bug me about meeting up with him. Some can be pretty jealous but will refuse to show it until I wonder why the hell he’s not replying to my messages anymore. Sure, they have to pray at least five times a day. But isn’t that considered a good thing since there’s no such thing as too much praying, right? And sure, we can’t exactly spend time with each other for an entire month because of the Ramadan, except for maybe, a smile and a wave from afar. But that’s what text messaging is there for anyway. And sure, they can’t eat pork. Well, pork has chockfuls of fat anyway.

A crazy story. I was dating this Muslim guy whom I haven’t seen for quite some time. When we finally did, we decided to have lunch at Jolibee, my treat. After a few minutes of deliberating what to order, since I love mushrooms, I decided to order their “Crispy Bacon Mushroom,” completely forgetting that he couldn’t eat pork and he would of course have to kiss me a lot – pork breath and all. I was quite embarrassed when he leaned close to my ear and told me to change my order because it has pork. I was so ashamed of myself and I worried that I might have offended him… Well, you can’t blame me really. I’ve been mostly around Roman Catholics all my life and it was the first time that I had to do the ordering during a date with a Muslim guy…  Still, I felt so darn insensitive and wished that the earth would just open and just swallow me up. Thankfully, he was pretty cool about it and didn’t make the whole thing into such a big deal.

So, dating someone from a different religion shouldn’t be turned into such a circus. They’re just like any other person you’ll date, except that there are certain things that the two of you can’t do together like go to church every Sunday or enjoy pork barbeque at Boulevard. Even if my parents may forbid me to date outside my religion, I personally don’t put religion as something extremely high up in my list of qualifications. Marriage, on the other hand, now that’s another story. I’m not putting a total X in that box since I believe that love cannot stand against religion. If someday I would have to convert my faith to Islam and say goodbye forever to wearing short skirts and eating pork just to be with the man who turns out to be the love of my life, then, I probably would.

I figured, I’ll still be worshiping the same God, He just has a different name.

Still, if I had a choice, I would still prefer to marry a Roman Catholic such as myself, if only to make my parents less disappointed with me.   

 

 

I was channel surfing the other day and caught an episode of Oprah wherein she was interviewing this middle-aged man who actually has three wives and children all living under one roof. Apparently, there is a place somewhere in Utah where a sect of people actually practice polygamy.

 

The question in my mind wasn’t if whether we should condemn these people for their practice. It is not their fault that they were born to a culture that made them refute the universal belief that there is only one woman for every man. They were brought up believing that a man has the right to have more than one wife at the same time, if he wished to. This is no different with other cultures around the world. A few tribes in Africa practice polygamy. Even the Muslim religion allows a man to have more than one wife if the man can support all his families.

 

The question in my mind was if whether what they were doing actually had merit and why.

 

Men are said to be born polygamous. Despite the raised skeptical eyebrows of my male friends who are practically about to yell out their disagreement, we all know that this is true. And it’s not really their fault. They were just genetically made up that way. The simple fact that a guy during ejaculation, has a thousand sperms to spare, make him genetically primed to copulate with a thousand women at any time if he wanted to, while females who have only one egg fit for fertilization only at a certain time in a month, and has to be the one to carry the fetus for nine months, certainly makes it highly unlikely for them to want to copulate with more than one partner at the same time.      

 

I’m not saying that we females should just accept this fact and turn a blind eye whenever our boyfriends/husbands cheat. Despite my jaded views regarding love, I still believe that not all men are polygamous. My Dad for one is the living proof. Prior to his marriage to my mother, he was a notorious “Ladies Man” or more popularly known as “Playboy.” He had a lot of girlfriends and even had two-three girlfriends at the same time. When I was young, unbeknownst to him, I used to read the loveletters and greeting cards from his ex-girlfriends which he kept in an old attaché case at the back of his closet. As my aunts and uncles recalled, when my father finally met my mother, he decided to give up his old ways and became a full-pledged one-woman man.

 

But the thing is, my Dad is only one among the very few men who can be considered the exemption to the rule. Most men ARE polygamous. Practically all of my friends who are in serious relationships have had their boyfriends cheat on them at one time or the other. And I found out about these affairs not through my own friends but through other people. I’ve never told them nor their boyfriends that I knew, I figured it was none of my business and nobody wants to be the bearer of bad news anyway. As for my own personal experiences, I’ve had a couple of boyfriends who cheated on me. I’ve also experienced being the one whom they were cheating with. And during not so satisfying relationships, I’ve also done my own share of cheating. Cheating has become a universal act. Nowadays, almost everybody does it. Everybody condemns it but if we look deep into our own conscience, almost everybody is guilty of it.

 

An intelligent point raised during the Oprah show by one of the three wives of the same man was that it is better to have one man raising and supporting more than one wife and their children under one roof than one man raising and supporting one wife and family while lying and sneaking around to be with his mistresses, leaving those mistresses to raise their own children alone without providing any support to them simply because the law does not allow it.

 

True. She was right. It is more humane to do the former than the latter. Yet, can we really live in a society that will allow polygamy to be legalized?

 

I have a cousin who had an affair with a rich married man. Her parents only found out about it when she told them that she was carrying his child. Her father practically disowned her but in the end, accepted her and and her son in his family when she finally left the married guy. Another cousin also had an affair with another married man, a Muslim at that. Considering that in the Muslim religion, polygamy is allowed but only if the man swears to support all his families and all parties involved are amenable to it. What happened next wasn’t pretty. My cousin and the Muslim guy were sued for bigamy and if I’m not wrong, there was even some jail time involved. I don’t know the complete story for now but I do know that she, the guy and their child are now all living under one roof.  

 

I do not condemn my cousins for what happened to them. I think it is just their own misfortune that they had chosen to fall inlove with someone who couldn’t be completely theirs in the first place. Love is as always an addictive nuisance, you know it’s wrong but you can’t make yourself walk away from it. Neither do I believe that what they did was commendable. They knew the guy was married therefore, somewhere down the line, they should have been more prepared knowing that whatever they had with the guy was going to end someday.  I believe that it is the fault of the married males for even considering an emotional and physical involvement with these females, despite knowing beforehand that they were already unavailable and had no right both morally and legally to do such an investment. I’d like to think of my cousins as being emotionally victimized by a society that makes men more adept and more powerful in his role in the family. If men and women were considered equals in their role in the family, and not as the more superior “Padre de pamilya” and the mere inferior “Ina ng tahanan,” what happened to my cousins could have been avoided.

 

But who am I kidding? We cannot change how society perceives the role of a man and woman in the family. Neither do I believe that legalizing polygamy will make for a better society. All we can do for now is hope for a better future. Stay single, get to know the opposite sex, date as many people as you want, get that urge to stray or that thinking that there is still someone better than the one you are currently with out of your system until you’re sick and tired of dating already, commit once you’re confident that you’re contented with your partner and finally, get married, not because you’re afraid he/she might end up with someone else but because nothing else will make you happy but to spend the rest of your life with that person and you don’t see yourself growing old with anyone else. Once that’s done, you’ve already fought half the battle The rest is now up to both of you. 

 

 

 

A few days ago, while my parents and I were having our lunch at some fastfood restaurant, my mom asked me something that she hasn’t asked me in a long time.

 

“Jen, have you started smoking again?”

 

This has been a question that she has been asking me repeatedly ever since my aunt started smelling cigarette smoke from my room during my college days in Quezon City and ratted me out to my mom.

 

“It’s nothing,” I told her back then, to which she preceeded with her tirade of “You know very well what smoking can do to your health, blah, blah, blah… Your dad doesn’t even smoke, blah, blah, blah… That’s where you’re wasting your allowance, blah, blah, blah… You should stop, blah, blah, blah…”

 

Back in those days, and for the next few years after, I have denied the smoking issue vehemently. When arriving from hospital duty and smelling like nicotine, I told her the doctors smoke at the Intern’s Quarters and the smell sticks to my bags and to my clothes. After smoking in my room, I spray a quarter of my own perfume in every corner of the room. When that doesn’t work, I tell her, it must be coming from the neighbors (which houses are thankfully just a few feet away from my own window). When she caught me with a pack of cigarette in my bag, I told her I was just holding it for a friend. The strength to quit smoking was just as difficult to achieve as the courage to admit to my own mother that I do smoke and this went on for years.

 

Lately, with a room of my own, I have been able to smoke in my own bedroom at night once my parents have gone to their own rooms. With a relaxed review schedule, I’ve also managed to smoke in the bathroom, before my morning bath, once they’ve all gone to work. The smell of shampoo, conditioner and soap thankfully provides a slight mask to the nicotine odor. But I guess I wasn’t as careful as I thought because the upper bedroom windows permeate the smoke towards the kitchen and my mom, who has a really strong knack for smelling cigarette smoke, has caught me once again.

 

“Yes, once in a while,” I told her.

 

I don’t know what came over me. Maybe it was because I figured I was old enough to do whatever I wanted, without my mother still continually treating me like a child. Maybe it was because I should know by now if what I was doing was right or wrong and I wanted her to realize that I know it was wrong but she should just let me be because nobody except me can tell me to stop what I’m doing. Or maybe it was because I was just tired of lying.

 

“What for?” she asked me.

 

“I don’t know… To stay awake?” Seriously, I could not find a better answer for that question, simply because I really don’t know why the hell I smoke. Previously, during my college days, I smoked because I wanted to lose weight. And then, as I got older, it was to replace that feeling of incompleteness during the verge of depression whenever I was in between relationships. So I smoked when I was single and quit whenever I had a boyfriend. When I started smoking secretly even while I was in a relationship (To my exes, sorry guys, I lied. My love for you guys back then just wasn’t strong enough for me to give that up), it had already started to become a habit and the nicotine had started getting its claws on me, calling for me at the most inopportune of times at the most public of places. Until I just said “What the heck!” and started admitting to guys that I was dating that yes, I do smoke, take it or leave it. Curiously enough, it was the guys who accepted the smoking who are still there for me and those who forbidded it are the ones who are no longer in my phone book. But that’s another story.

 

My father added his own two cents’ worth. “Maybe her friends also smoke, that’s why, she does it.”

 

I had to hide a smile. How adorable. My Dad thinks I’m still a teenager succumbing to peer pressure. Unfortunately, none of my classmates smoked, or at least, not as regularly as I did.

 

My mom then went on a repeat of the tirade that happened years back, “You know very well what smoking can do to your health, blah, blah, blah… Your dad doesn’t even smoke, blah, blah, blah… That’s where you’re wasting your allowance, blah, blah, blah… You should stop, blah, blah, blah…” This time, she had additional ammunition, “Your grandfather died of a smoking-related disease at the age of 63, blah, blah, blah…”

 

Hmmm… Does this mean, like grandfather, like granddaughter?

 

I tuned out my mom. I was just too stunned with my own self why I found the need to admit to her that I smoked. What the hell came over me? I could have continued lying to her, it’s not as if I’ve never done that before. But I realized that yes, I was tired of lying. I couldn’t even ask her for kickbacks or permission not to sleep at home to her face, I usually have to text it. I was also tired of being treated like a child just because I was still living under their roof and still jobless at 27. I was also tired of being treated like I don’t know what’s best for me. I knew, I just choose not to.

 

So, the end result, I got a tongue-lashing from my mother, which was probably a long time coming, considering that I’ve been lying to her about my smoking for the past 5 years. But unlike what I expected, I didn’t get the “If I ever see you smoking, or smell cigarette in your room, I’ll cut off your allowance/ground you/disown you” speech. I think she figured that I had a mind of my own, I’m old enough to know what’s right for me and nothing she can say, unless I myself wanted to, can make me change my ways.

 

Despite the tongue-lashing and the inconvenience of having to be more careful now about my smoking under my parent’s roof, one good thing did come out of this experience.

 

I realized my mother still cares about me.