Thursday, December 21, 2006

so far, so good

How's married life so far? Challenging. Adjustments are bummers. The fact that my lola died two days after the wedding didn't make things easier. People say she let my wedding pass first before dropping us with an emergency. It might be just coincidence -- December after all is when many old folks say, Fuck it, I'm outta here -- but I like to believe it's not. I owe mama one. We're not that hot about the Subic honeymoon anyway.

Anyway, I'm a married man now. I am looking at a thing so big, new and alien, and, understandably, the question "What have I gotten myself into?" is banging in my head more times than I want it to. (My wife, Charmaine, who had to give up a pampered airconditioned life complete with nightly Playstation marathons to be with me, is crying homesickness.) Birth pains, they say. Yeah. And we're coping. I guess we're just surprised marriage is not as easy as we first thought it is.

Saturday, December 09, 2006

kaput

She said her name's Assunta, and I believe her like I believe cows fly when nobody's looking. You know girls in this type of job, they pick "sexy" names to make themselves marketable. It's impossible to go to a tit bar without bumping into a Trixie or a Trisha, a Melody or a Bernadette.

We were in Club Idol in Cubao, where my friends had organized a "stag" party for me. "Where is the fucking lap dance you promised I'm gonna have tonight?" I yelled when I noticed nothing's happening. "Forget it," barked Aldwin, who was the Big Boss and Treasurer for the night. "Not enough budget. I think we may have overspent on something." Then he plunged into this litany about how the mama-san was allegedly ripping us off. "It's as if her girls shit bricks of gold in the morning!" (At that point the bill was at Php4500 and still climbing. Assunta said for an additional Php3200 every hour we can go to a "dark room" where she can give me a private show and a head-spinning blowjob. Add Php500 and she'll go "all the way." No, she doesn't give discounts. Her pussy isn't Divisoria, she said.)

The mama-san stood in one corner, smiling like a Guy Fawkes mask, pretending she's not hearing any of this.

When it became obvious to her that no "dark room" action was imminent, Assunta asked if we could just give her Php300 "for my make-up." I looked at the bouncer and instantly threw the idea of pushing her off the chair out the window. Who wants to go home with an aching schlong and a bruised face?

Onstage, a girl with a tattoo on her left shoulderblade was playing with her clit while Jon Bon Jovi wailed from the speakers about being shot in a blaze of glory. My drunken friends could only gawk and drool.

"Php100 na lang. Pang-taxi ko," Assunta said. She should've called herself Gretchen. Or Ruffa. I had to rub my face to ensure I was awake and hearing this. We had to give in just to get rid of her.

And that's how my "stag" party went.

We should've stayed in Tiendesitas. At least the singer there was a real hot number. Those long legs, man . . .

Friday, December 08, 2006

bummer

Because Albay is still in the dumps courtesy of Typhoon Reming, plans for our honeymoon do not look good. I could rant and bitch about like a minority congressman, but when I see the devastation on TV, see all those families who'll not be celebrating the holidays with joy, I keep my mouth shut. I've no right to complain.

Yes, Albay, my mother's hometown, is where we plan to spend the days between wedding and Christmas. One of our principal sponsors, Aunt Nena, herself a Bicolana, promised to foot the bill. An uncle pledged his brand new van, and some cousins agreed to tag along for the predictably beer-y 10-hour roadtrip. Such excitement: my fiancee and I were looking forward for some fun away from the maddening Christmas rush and crowded malls and were thinking beaches! trees! fresh air! animalistic outdoor sex! when Reming came and ruined everything.

Tough luck, I guess.

Sunday, December 03, 2006

stag party?

Now that I'm in the last chapter of my being single, everybody is expecting me to have a bachelor/stag party. When I tell them I don't have one in the offing, even my girl friends are disappointed. They say it'd be lonely for me to go to the wedding without experiencing first a lap dance from some charming thing who does it for a living. Some even went as far as giving me numbers of pimps and people who they said can help me. One girl offered to do it herself, in private, but said she's only kidding, ha-ha, and left me with an aching boner.

"You can at least indulge in some torrid touching and groping, if you don't want it all the way," a former classmate said. How he figured I don't want it all the way is something that mystifies me. For her part, Mikay from Multiply said, "Just make it happen, dude." Make what happen, Miks? The uncouth ones yell, "Just go grab some pussy, you pansy!" and make me feel like the stereotypical highschool virgin in the process.

So will I have a bachelor/stag party or not? For one, I hate parties. All those drunk and boisterous people around you, telling you things you don't want to hear even in sobriety; inconsiderate assholes who'd treat you like shit if they go home unsatisfied; the possibility of violence breaking out; hysterical girls storming the nearest station afterward screaming gang-rape. Imagine the pressure on the host's shoulders. I need that like I need ants in my pants, man.

But - shit! - my friends are right: I need something to honor the dying days of my single life with. Maybe not as wild as a stag party, or as demented as an orgy, sorry folks, but something more intimate. A private lap dance sounds good -- with some torrid touching and a bit of tonsil-hockey on the side, if the performer is up to it, why not? Ditto a Kerouacian roadtrip with a real hot number who has ears for my crazy wanked-out ramblings. (Of course I've to beg for a friend's car for this. He says "no!" then this idea goes out the window. Bummer.) Unique stuff like that.

Then I will be ready to plunge into that world where they write "M" on the blank after Civil Status.