Sunday, October 3, 2010

Some things are about me

I talked to him after my other friend caught me online. Ripped abs didn't do me any harm this time. Not immunity, no never that. I would always like ripped abs. Maybe it's because I have puked out all of my affections for Robin Types that he is getting bulldozed along the way. It's funny how he uses Dove and I use Dove. A long time ago, Queenie's Dove green tea from Riyadh were reduced to a pulp with the many baths that were taken with it. And for a man who soaped a lot, it was understandable that my house mate told me to tell him to bring his own soap. ^_^

He's working with my other friend now, the one who I was really supposed to talk to. I met Furdee. (That would be his nickname though his name just sounds like that. He would also be referred to as Manong F. Apparently he is Andy's friend. We all know who Andy is, it's my ex's secret nickname.) He is from Batangas too and he is 29. ^_^ He is nice enough. I hope if he catches me online he won't piss me off. There are too many hentai men online and I don't want to add him on the list.

Andy said he is working for Cype's workplace for a while. But his old workplace is asking him to come back, saying that they would give him all that he wants. He wants to go home first. He is thinking of doing that next year. I chimmed in that he should do that and see his kids as well as enjoy his family. And that when he comes back, then he would be energized when it comes to working overseas. He said his dad wants him to go home. I chided that perhaps he didn't want you there. He agreed. He said his cousin might be helping him go to HongKong. I thought that might not be a good idea since HK peeps don't necessarily like Pinoys right now. Some might still be holding a "national grudge" regarding what happened. But he said he might work in a factory there. I was worried  because as far as I could remember, he wasn't supposed to carry heavy stuff. But I figured he already did when he worked as a waiter. That doesn't mean I miss him as he wants to believe. I worry about all of my friends. Especially the larger macho ones who think they are invisible.

He smoked a couple of times (at least he had one in his mouth) and I teased that I would smoke too. But I couldn't find my lighter, thank God. So they had to leave and so I had to cut the conversation short. He still called me with endearments that he should no longer use and were telling me things he oughta be telling Her. But I guess teasing without actually feeling anything is not so bad. If I can make him smile a bit, that should be okay. But saying, even in a joke, offering to father my imaginary kids is not okay. (This was in leu of him telling me not to smoke and me telling him I am not pregnant yet so I can still do. Pompous ass thinks he can tell me what to do. But then again, he is like a DAD when he says stuff like that.)

Anyway, no I am sorry as much as people or you might think it's romantic, but a woman pinning for your sorry ass I am not. I am too busy writing about love, reading and editing novels about it, making comics, being with friends, working, and barely surviving to have any time to think of you.

But like all loves in the past, you are there in the back of my mind, with everybody else. And even there, you try your best to bully them so that I would think of you first, when I have my rare times to think for my own pleasure. That is becoming rarer and farther in between.

I am glad I didn't sleep early, once again God had offered me peace of mind. And I take it greedily. Look at your women, go home to Her someday and let me be...just a friend that makes you smile once in a while. But you are no longer my burden to carry. Your happiness is no longer center to my goals. I can sleep knowing I only have mine to worry about.

So no, my new baseball bat is not for you. And no, I would not hit you with Rading, my new wooden bat, because it is for ME. For my new exercise routine. For my pleasure (and as for my arms, my pain) and my benefit.

Oddly enough, some things are about me.

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