A FAMILY WOMAN

I am joining the bats tonight, my favorite night creatures after I have got myself on board with Monfort Bat Conservation Foundation. Well, my head is pounding and of course my body clock and health consciousness is telling me to get at least three hours sleep, but I don’t want. I want to spend the night thinking, rationalizing at the same time feeling, to weight what really matters most in my life.

My daughter, my only family, her security is seem to be threatened because of all these shaky and scary things that had happened lately at the place I call a safe, quite, ideal and convenient for us to live. My maternal ancestral home in the island next to this city is my daughter’s home in the past year. I couldn’t afford to bring her back to the city to live with me yet, or so that’s what I want to believe because that is what I have been accustomed to. Night after night I pray that God will spare her from pain and harm. But is that all that I should do? I do believe in angels and I may not go to church but I do believe in a power beyond mine. However, as a mother as God’s co-creator of my daughter, I know I must do something. I am not superstitious but I do believe that life gives us sign to listen to and when we ignore them regrets come in the end.

And so I have been thinking, about all these. To get things clear, I’ll give a short background. A crime happened nearby and the people involved, both the victim and the suspect are just steps away from our main door. Though things somehow calmed down when the suspect left the sight of the place, I am not settled. However, another thing happened. My cousin on his way home at around 9:00 p.m. tonight was chased by motorcycle riding men. For what reason, no one exactly knows. My aunt said when I phoned her tonight that perhaps they are looking for a certain motorcycle driver. Whatever may be the reason, I am certain that the place is in an unstable state. And that place is where my daughter is.

I am here in the city, having a career as a teacher and working my way up to a sort of responsibilities in the company that is feeding my personal fulfillment, feeling like a career woman who is accomplishing what I have always wanted to do as a child. I am carrying a laptop, working as someone who is respected by people who wants to learn something that I am good at and I am juggling a lot of things testing my power and limits. I am part of a bat and nature conservation group, a ghost writer and a teacher. It’s not just the money, I am doing this to fill the empty spaces of pride and sometimes vanity. But look at it deeper, I may want this but I also don’t want to neglect the role I am supposedly playing excellently but coming out short.

I am a mother…

Yes, and I can say that I am a good one if not the best. I work hard to provide for her. I am planning our future and slowly trying to materialize them slowly. I don’t go out partying. I hug her when we sleep together on week end nights and I always exchange “I love yous” with my daughter openly. But then tonight as I did not let sleepiness disturb my night of contemplation, I have realized that I am not just a mother…in fact, I am a family woman. I am no longer a single mother, I am a family woman.

Fine, maybe it is just the choice of words but these words, this title, the “family woman” struck me tonight. Yes, it’s just me and my daughter. We love each other. And I commit to my responsibility as her mother, bestfriend and protector forever. That makes us a family. I am raising a family. It is me and my daughter, our family.

And so I have realized that, yes, my jobs are important; my roles and tasks are essential to my positions but none of them can equal the importance of my daughter, God’s gift to me.

Tonight, yes, I am sorry, I haven’t started everything that I am supposed and have promised to finish before sunset. I don’t know how am I gonna beat my brain and body to work on them but I know I must take time to realize things that are much more important. Tonight, I have also cancelled an important appointment that I am supposed to do after lunch today. I have informed our head teacher that I will leave work early today. I want to take steps to fulfill my promise to my family, my daughter. And truly, everything else seem not to matter when it comes to the one you love. More than a family to me, she is my beloved angel, the reason for me to live and working hard for to become the best. Seriously, I may make some inconsistencies someday but right now, I am writing this to remind me that it will be a big mistake and there is no else to blame but me if I don’t prioritize my family.

I am a very responsible person, though not flawless but I have set a priority. I am not waiting for the last minute buzzer or the time over before I wake up. I don’t want to regret anything. I will be the family woman my daughter needs me to be. Baby, I love you. Wait for mama.

An Angel Broke My Heart and Changed Me

History

I have been counting the days till 23^rd and 26^th. Christmas season this year is more than just gift-giving, celebration and vacation for me. It is my time to let go of something. Last year, at this same week I was having emotional turbulence due to my- someone special’s schedule to leave the country. I know on that day, the 26^th marks the beginning of the question “Will I ever see him again?”. I couldn’t celebrate Christmas perfectly then, because I knew I had to face a “death without the possibility of resurrection” a day after that. I loved the guy. I was anticipating the pain of letting go than the joys of celebrating.

This is the main reason why I am ardent to make it different and planned the 4 days of my Christmas break to its fullest. I want to be happy and stay away from the memories.

No, I am not going to talk about the pathetic Christmas I had last year.

My angel, decided to separate from me four months after he left. Up to know I still can’t resolve to myself how could an angel break my heart. Yes, an angel. I even named him after an archangel.

Miserable Me

After he dumped me (ouch! – OUCH!), my beautiful dreams were hammered down to pieces, like crystals. I had difficulty breathing and carried it for months. I would stare at books but read nothing, I was thinking of him. I stare outside my window and wonder if flying would make me feel better (that means jumping from the 17^th floor down). No I didn’t want to commit suicide, I wanted to fly. Please take note of the difference. One time my boss came to my office and asked if I was okay. He must have seen me cry. I started to become more self-criticizing which was not helpful at that moment. I was bitter. I blamed myself.

It took painful months until I could slowly build myself up again amidst the bitterness. I tried everything I could to pick the pieces. I tried to date someone else just to forget angel but it instead placed me in danger.

Phoenix

So I began looking at him in a different angle. Instead of an ex-boyfriend who I loved so much, I looked at him as a young boy. He needed someone for experience – in short, he used me. I started scolding myself based on my own facts. I began to tell myself I will make sure I will improve, become better each day so if ever angel becomes a better person he wouldn’t look down on me because I was miserably in love with him and I couldn’t get out of it. No, I wouldn’t let that happen. Not a boy like him would make a seasoned woman like me look bland. My life doesn’t end because of him. True enough. Bitter.

Since then, all I could do was look at men and gay men. I would only watch love stories of men and gay men and envy them to death. Watching a heterosexual love story makes me feel irritable. For me, they are all a fallacy. I started hating the existence of men flattering women. And I learned sarcasm towards men. Men have belonged to the lower class of creatures.

Apart from watching homosexual movies and hating men I have also turned into a more diligent and studious person. This never happened when I was still a student. I was a weakling then. I studied as much as I can. More than English and Grammar, I have borrowed Biology and History books. I saved pages from the internet about the wars in history and the intriguing people of time. I read about Nero, learned that the first president of United States was John Hanson and not George Washington, I learned many things because I was broken hearted. My brain was happy because my heart was dead.

Life was also good. It gave me experiences and challenging events and students at the workplace to keep me on the ground. I am learning the art of becoming a better teacher and instructor not only to my students but also to myself. I started to build a competition between me and the imaginary expectation of a certain person.

Dressing is also a factor for women trying to recover her dignity after her soul collapsed. I began cross-dressing to feel protected and shielded from men’s eyes. I didn’t want men to notice me. Later on, the cross dressing evolved and I started to look more of a corporate woman instead. This way I looked more confident and defiant.

My characters have changed too. I am no longer afraid to be mean when I mean it, to be selfish so I can be self-sufficient, to be loud so I can be heard, to complain so I can be relieved. The best is, I went back to cursing when I am not in front of my daughter, students and boss. How relieving. I learned to fight back against pain and standards. I did not anymore bother if ever I would be alone because of my changes, it was anyway only a fantasy I made myself believe somebody is with me all through out.

I focused myself into being a teacher and a mother and discovered the woman in me.

I considered possibilities in life like getting a scholarship and enrolling in some classes again, doing some volunteer work and possibly leaving the country to go to Vietnam, Cambodia and other interesting countries someday when my daughter is old enough. I have also looked into rewriting articles for online magazines, going out more often and I stopped being strict on myself. I am here to enjoy life and like what I made clear earlier, my life is not at its end just because an angel broke my heart.

For months now I feel these are the best days of my life and it is obvious that I am happy. I am happy and I could care less for that angel. Until these days…

To be continued...

THE PRESENT PERFECT TENSE BOYFRIEND

Wednesday at 9:50 p.m. with nobody here in the apartment but me and no more interesting movie to watch, I decided to write another entry for the blog. It’s a Wednesday spent not with Mara at MTS together with Cerveza Negra because it’s a money “obpso” Wednesday.

So I fixed myself a cup of coffee and grabbed Marley which is already almost crumpled in the tight pocket of my brown slacks.

I never really thought that I would be writing about this topic ever. It’s about this guy. I don’t know why I have been thinking more about him lately when I am also trying to get rid of him in my thoughts. I have caught myself several times wondering if he ever would make a mistake calling me. I don’t think he would. There’s no palpable reason for him to do so. I have also wondered if he would ever drop an e-mail to say “Hi. Hello. Are you still alive?”. I don’t think he even bothers to check his mailbox when it is examination season in his university. Why am I thinking like this? Maybe because of the unusual route we took tonight on the way home? No. Maybe because it’s almost December 26, the day that would mark the first year I have not seen him in person. I don’t know.

I have worked so hard to get over him. It wasn’t so easy though. I have never seen myself reacted so badly after a break up. To justify it, though he was not my first (and I doubt if he would be the last), he was the only person I really believed in, the only person I allowed myself to embrace with my future not minding the odds. It was the first time that I believed a fairy tale could happen in reality. I am a very realistic person and allowing myself to ride Cinderella’s carriage in glass slippers is kind of absurd.

He was a sensitive guy, generous and passionate. He might be a great guy but then in the end, I can’t really judge the relationship if it was good or not but I felt it was just a matter of experience for him. It felt as though he needed a big break, a shot, an experience to deposit for his memory bank, or maybe just a saved account for him to tell his friends and girlfriends that he had a past with a girl from Davao whose name is Mantis. I really do not like the thought but I can’t help it. I never wanted to become just a part of someone’s memory like a page on someone’s diary. Was I just used? I hate it but that’s where the water had seem to boil down to.

One time, we (Mara, JC and me) were talking about what a certain boyfriend did to a girl or a girlfriend did to a guy to express their affection. We agreed that boys and girls when they are so in love would do even the corniest thing we know just to let the person feel that we love him or her. And I remembered that I did something unbelievable too. Well, I wrote our love story. It started from the day I saw him the first time up to the day I watched him walk away to the departure lounge. I finished it in one month and three weeks, used five sign pens and three notebooks and had it bound later. Yes, it was handwritten. The book was more than an inch thick.

I thought this guy is a past. But then I got myself thinking that maybe he is a present perfect tense, an action that happened in the past that has a connection in the present. Whatever the connection is I still can’t figure it out.

It was sad. For, me the relationship was as though a potential fruit-bearing plant uprooted from the earth before it can even strengthen its trunk.

I appreciate a lot of things in my life. I think most of it. On the contrary, missing him is the only feeling that I have at these moments that I can’t really consider pleasant enough for an appreciation. I don’t know if I am holding on. There is nothing to hold on. I even have the thought that he already has a girlfriend because it’s almost Christmas. I have already changed my life plan exclusively for me and my daughter. Is this some kind of a “hang-over”? If it is, wow, this is the longest hang-over I have had without getting intoxicated. Alka Seltzer, anyone?

Christmas –to-do list

Countdown! A few weeks from now it’s gonna be Christmas. I have seen the familiar and famous Christmas tree in Victoria Plaza made of lights. DLPC is earning more at this time of year because the city is just full of colorful lights and lanterns are almost everywhere. In fact, the first floor of our two storey apartment looks like Charlie’s Chocolate factory annex because the renters down there had maximized including our fences adorned with Christmas lights and foil strings. Everynight after work we hear the same carols and greetings sang and yelled in familiar voices. At school, our bell begins with a Christmas jingle before a female pre-recorded voice would say “Today is Wednesday, December 10, 2008. The time is 7:20 p.m.”. Okay, so it’s really Christmas and I am out to take the plunge and make a better Christmas than I had last year. Last year was horrible, it was the most painful Christmas I could remember. And I hope that despite the memory the holiday would bring me, I would be strong enough not to spoil the fun.

December 24 is the day I have been looking forward to (apart from the day we will receive our envelopes containing our yearly bonus) because that marks the first day of my plans.

Decemeber 24 (though not a declared holiday), I will leave work at 3:30 in the afternoon and do my shopping before taking the boat. I must not forget to buy 2 bottles of so-ju for my uncles to try, 3 bottles of red wine for gifts to some friends and for the reunion the next day in Davao and two bottles of Cerveza Negra for myself. Of course I must buy my lovely daughter her goodies so she will have endless supply of her own for Christmas eve. Food? I am not sure what I will contribute because I heard there will be roasted pig on that day courtesy of my daughter’s grandmother.

In the evening, before eve, I will be dropping off the gifts I have been collecting for the five children in the neighborhood I have decided to adopt for Christmas. I have also thought of what are the possible gifts I can wrap for each of them. Some of the people at work are also thinking of helping me out. I am also thinking of buying some milk and a layer of cake for them. Christmas is for children to be happy.

December 25, I will be travelling to Davao with my daughter and sister to attend the reunion in my father’s side. This is the first time our children will be meeting after a long time. One of the bottles of wine will be brought there. Perhaps we will be singing there and we will be watching the children and babies of cousins and aunts. We will be talking about this and that, these and those, updates and answering the questions “So, who are you dating now Mantis?” or “How’s G?”. Maybe we will be talking about my estranged father and brother and mother and another brother. And of course I will be bragging about how amazing my daughter is. Of course, there will be drinking for men and women but none for me. My daughter would surely make me dizzy. For sure I will be carrying enough books for her, drawing materials and bubbles for her to be kept busy.

In the afternoon, if there is energy left in us, we will go to MTS or another restaurant and have something to eat for dinner. I think we won’t be able to travel back to the island. We will sleep here in the apartment if none from my relatives would offer their house for a sleep over.

December 26 , if it happens that we will be able to go home the day before, we will just be staying at home and watch a movie assuming that I have already bought the new DVD player that I have been planning to purchase before Christmas. If we are still in Davao which is quite a possibility, we will be visiting some friends around the city. Maybe it is also high time for Alex to visit the orphanage and see the children there who got to spend Christmas away from their families. I also plan that she can go around the city, either in a mall or in a park with all the goodies she can have. I also have to buy the things we need for the next day’s plan. It’s Christmas.

December 27, more than Christmas, this is the first time in one year that I have four days straight of no work. Yes, my much awaited vacation. I plan to go to Karen’s Pool in the island with my daughter in the morning. She has been asking me to take her to a swimming pool. So, I think this is the best time. In the afternoon, I plan that we go to the Monfort Bat Cave which is just a few minutes away from the pool. I believe that it would be nice to slowly expose my daughter to nature specially to bats and how important they are to the balance of nature despite the myth of Dracula and vampires associated with the harmless fruit bats. I hope Mara and Mai can join us.

December 28, last day before working resumes is just a total rest day. I want it laid back and just rest.

That’s it. That’s the full plan for the four days vacation. I have yet to make plans for the New Year…hmmm, got any ideas?

Affirmations affirmed.

It’s midnight here in my ancestral home by the beach and I already feel hunger which is supposed to be for breakfast. Before finally retiring beside my daughter who is in her deep slumber I decided it is better that I write my thoughts or it might slip with the other thousand substantial feelings that I have failed to write.

I am 27, a great age. I guess this age is really the beginning of my golden age. I am a woman now. I have passed my childhood and teenage-hood with quite amazing experiences that has mold me into a woman that I am. I do consider myself as seasoned. I am quite assured that only a few things could bring me down. Well, compared to years before, I have my security. I have a job that teaches me well, lovely friends that listens to both my bullshits and wisdom and of course I share love with my daughter. There are other securities that I am yet to conquer and I am up to achieving them.

Funny thing is, when I was younger, I thought finding a man that carries the same passion and enormous love to share like I do would complete me. Well, maybe it would, if I am needy of that. Now, no more, I have a different sense of need.

Self-worth is something that took me a long time to learn to consider giving myself. I did not really feel any worth from my own family, perhaps that is the reason why it took years and many heart breaking experiences before I could realize what it exactly means to me.

I may have many experiences, some are good and most are bad. But they are just all experiences. They don’t matter if you do not have the ability to sift them or filter them carefully to decide which is worth remembering and keeping as lessons. I had good ones that made me into a sensitive and pro-active person. I am lucky enough that I had them because I know others would just listen to stories a person like me can tell. And all those filtered experiences no matter some of them brought me to tears (even death), they were considerably beautiful.

I guess I have also learned contentment for what I currently have. I think it starts from there. I do not feel the pressure of having a boyfriend or to be married someday. Being alone doesn’t mean you are lonely. I am still a young woman and I have a lot of wonderful experiences waiting for me. This I guess what makes me lucky, I have the freedom to choose and do what I want. Now I want to develop myself. I want to know that I am improving. I don’t think marriage will give me this. I am also sure that if I have an exclusive relationship right now, the person would have the feeling of being rightful that his permission is needed or worse would decide for me. I have no one to compromise with but me. At least I have less the hassle.

No, I am not saying that I am luckier than women who are already bound to their marriages and motherhood. I am a mother myself and I still co-exist with men. What I am trying to say is, it doesn’t mean that you are a single woman/mother, alone in facing the challenges of life is a pitiful sight. It’s all up to oneself to decide whether you are on the victim lane or the bold lane. The victim lane spells pity so eloquently while the bold lane puts it as an opportunity for learning.

I am not a superwoman. I am not perfect. In fact, lately I have seen myself committing mistakes one after another. I also have fears. Sometimes other people have to call my attention while gradually I have learned to call my own attention. Perhaps and I hope I am right to say that this is a normal phase when you are learning more about yourself, your surrounding and finding a road to harmony. I guess mistakes are my way to learn and change for the better. Fears are my buzzers to bravery. Both leads to confidence.

I have not given up the idea of finding a scholarship and other means to learn more. I am also hoping I will get the stint at the bat cave and other meaningful organizations that I can contribute to improve. This is what I love. I love to see that something is being built and that I am a part of it. Maybe that is the reason why the status quo I held before had to stop, maybe because those would only stagnate me.

Now I see it clearly, there are indeed sub-stages in life. I have just left my adult teenage-hood and now I am in my young womanhood. Who says I am old? I am young and free. That’s where the spirit of people with substance comes from. This isn’t just an affirmation.

This is what it feels tobe affirmed.

A MISOGAMIST LIVES IN ME

I guess I said it wrong again. As days go I am having this feeling that I am growing weird manifesting more and more detachment from the concept of relationship.

Okay, the background: One respectable person casually spoke to me about something “lucrative” in the work place. I admire his vision and I appreciate it. I really respect him highly. No wonder why I stick around for more than 400 days now. When I learned about his vision, my only response was, “Well, if that is ever gonna happen, I would not consider ever getting married.” From my naïve aggressive response, he couldn’t stop but ask, “How does that make a connection?” So I replied, “If ever I am gonna get a higher income I would no longer consider having a husband.”

I am sure I gave him the wrong impression. Perhaps I am now seen to be a woman who is out there to just marry a rich man. And for heaven’s sake, I am totally not like that. It was just really a joke. Well, a very bad joke.

If money is my reason for marrying, I could have gotten married a long time ago already. Needless to say, I had a few suitors and even relationships with affluent guys. One was even young and highly positioned in an international company. I think that was the main reason why I decided to drift away from that person despite that he was the most perfect on the list. Some people think it was stupid that I made him slip away.

I guess it is time that I admit to myself, despite the denial, that I am a blooming misogamist.There were series of events that lead me to this status. My mother left her 1st husband and children in pursuit of relationship bliss. My father left my mother and us (4 children) in pursuit of the same. Where are they now? After years and both at their 50s, no one has it. I have also heard many stories of marital years, 7 year itch and marital failures. I have experienced them myself, promises, future plans and even couple rings. Yeah, I was there, fell in love and broke my heart.

Right now, I get to think, why was marriage by the way invented? Do people enter such because it’s seemingly the trend in the society? Is getting married, so not to be alone in the future, a must do?

I am happy for people who are enjoying their marriage, and I envy the old couples who are still wearing their wedding rings and are still walking hand in hand together reminiscing their struggles and cuddles in the past while watching their children and grandchildren in the present.
But sometimes, I really wonder why some people still ask me about, “when are you getting married?” or the not-so-comforting comfort “I am sure you will meet a great guy.”. Duh! I really don’t need that.

I know a lot about relationship and how to ideally deal with it. However, they are mostly dogmas, theories that despite many tried only few has sustained it and consequently reached a good stage in their relationship.

Soon it’s Christmas and there will be a reunion. In the upcoming reunion I will be the oldest in the relative who is left unmarried. But it is great to know that I have a daughter who loves me so much. I will again be the object of pity, wonder and silent scorns. But I know somehow, deep inside they feel proud of me for standing my grounds, choosing single parenting to the trend of marriage. And I know, some are even envious of my freedom.

I am really enjoying my life. I love the focus and concentration I have in my job and with parenting. I love to see my improvements in being a TOEFL instructor and being a mother. Gladly, I do not have a boyfriend who would demand time from me. I don’t really have the luxury to sit in front of Adam’s sons to create some fraudulent romantic moods.
Maybe, more than hatred towards marriage and the idea of it is not really the absolute issue for women like me. Perhaps, it’s more of the fear. It’s not easy to walk around pretending that your heart does not bear a scar. It was also kind of expensive to get my heart its plastic surgery to at least minimize the scab.

Okay, maybe someone is really gonna come (and he better be great). No one knows everything for sure. But I am yet to face my issues. It doesn’t mean that I have no man in my life I need one. I am also not marrying because of money, I don’t think so. Perhaps, I am not really the marrying type if not a misogamist. Toast to women like me.

Wednesdays with Mara, Marley and Cerveza Negra

For many months after breaking my heart, I did not go out nor explore the outside world. I lived the very same old, same old lifestyle. My trips were the same every week ; Buhangin – Bajada - Buhangin route for the weekdays and Buhangin – Samal – Bajada – Buhangin routes on the week ends.

After almost 6 months letting my head deal with work and more work, I decided to give up this life. Thanks to Mara for convincing me.

For three consecutive Wednesdays we have gone to MTS, sit on the same table and order the same drink. Now let me introduce my typical Wednesday evening companion and the activities we do in the same place.

Matina Town Square (MTS) may bring me a lot of representations for the memory lane but it t no longer affects me. Thanks to selective amnesia. Fact is, I have brought three boyfriends there in the past eight years that the waiters in Asian Fusion would already know who’s my boyfriend and who’s not on occasions I take a guy there. But this time I am with Mara and Marley so the servers already recognize I am single.

Marley, as I call my constant companion in ups and downs, in sickness and in health, is always accessible. Good thing that this guy never complains as I repeatedly stroke his white and slim body, bang his head on the surface of my watch and burn it to the last puff. I can’t moderate the consumption whenever I am in a laid back moment with chips, cerveza negra, acoustic and loud music accompanied with intellectual intercourse.

Cerveza Negra, the black beer we always order is just perfect for these short stretch. It tastes like wine, smells like wine and costs like a poor man’s wine. It soothes the moment. Because it’s beer, it is a depressant that smoothes and relaxes the monotony. Just like me, because it is black, it is exotic. Take note, n-e-g-r-a. Rings a bell. It reminds me how I was teased by my family way back in elementary because of my color. I have come to love this drink that I am

going to buy myself 3 bottles for my exclusive consumption on Christmas eve.

Mara, my buddy, is a go-girl. We discuss on many things. The discussion ranges from our job to childhood, from organizational skills to considering other endeavors in life and so on and so forth. Sometimes issues in a local showbiz weekly gossip show, The Buzz, becomes a good mesmerizing topic. We just love talking and listening to music. We both appreciate the fact that we are experiencing a laid back life. One thing I like the most is that I can just be me, when I am there, I am not a teacher, I am just a woman. I can curse and talk about discreet issues with Mara, feel Marley, drink Cerveza, laugh loud and sing with the band.

However, last night was different. I did something I can’t remember I have done before. I watched a man in blue short-sleeved polo walked in front of our table. I guess our usual table is a strategic location It is where men usually pass back and forth before and after pee trips.

“That kind of guy is my type.” I told Mara who also tried to stretch her neck to get a glimpse.

“Next time, tell me about it when he is still visually accessible.” She complained and started to gesture her hands like holding a binocular.

The guy was slim, tall and with fair skin. He carries blue color with grace and elegance but maintains a touch of masculinity. His facial features show intelligence blended with romance. Yes, he almost passes my criteria for a “gayish” man. I love that. I love men with a sense of femininity in them. Oh c’mon, I like gays but I have no intentions to have a gay lover. So don’t get confused. I like men with a soft side.

The guy was three tables from us and was with a guy. But I didn’t bother to go and ask for a number. No, I am not as bold as that or should I rephrase that – No, I am not as desperate as that. So I let the guy be, safe from me in a safe distance.

I wore a smile realizing that I have finally recovered my eyesight, the visual capacity to look at guys whether my type or not. Perhaps my recent “relationship” damaged my vision and its scope of periphery.

Afterwards, I walked to the comfort room, this time with a change. Instead of walking heavy, I walked with elegance and a little strut to show off confidence. I still celebrate winning my confidence back. And I know, there’ll be more MTS, marley, cerveza negra with Mara. Of course, there’ll be more men-watching and struts on the way to the private room.

This is great. This is womanhood. I love it.