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.