A Joe Jackson Dilemma..

First off, I’m not saying Joe Jackson made it okay but fact that the song became extremely popular among the drinking and the videoke set tells me that ”mistress-hood” has gained legitimacy as a topic which you can be upfront about.

\”Would You Be My NUmber Two by Joe Jackson\” - I looked it up in Wikipedia.  Nothing.  I didn’t even see it listed among his individual hits.  Yet, thanks to one of his YouTube fans, I learned that the song (from his 1984 album “Body and Soul”) was actually a hit – sort of – reaching the #70 spot…in the U.K.  Here, though, I think it hit the roof.

Why the appeal? Perhaps it has something to do with the singer’s direct demeanor in making his offer – somehow coming off as a romantic gesture.

For me, it’s fluff.  It’s not my style.  I’m kind of (read: I AM) cynical about it.  I’d never want to be in a situation where I was either at the giving or the receiving end of a similar offer.  I’d never want to be known as “Number Two” knowing that the previous one before me will always be known as “Number One”.  And I’d consider it suspect when (if I were at the receiving end) the previous boyfriend was still referred to as “Number One” – I mean, what’s going on with that nomenclature - that closure is still a vista in the horizon?  I’d sooner not know.

Even though it’s not something I would consider being a part of, I am not immune from exposure to it.  They’re known as friends-in-need of advice.

Consider the following exchanges of SMS’.

Mistress-In-Waiting (MIW):  Ate naloloka ako.

Wannabe Scrivener (WS) : Why??? 

MIW:  Busy kb?

WS: Ok lang..

MIW: Remember the guy I mentioned last week?

WS: And???

MIW: Di ba, I told you last week that I met a guy who certified me as a bottom?

WS: Don’t even go there…

MIW: Well, we’re kinda exploring the idea of me as a 3rd party..

WS: Rule #1 for threesomes…the third party should have had no prior emotional or physical links with the couple.

MIW: Hay naku, I know, but we kinda like the company.

WS: Hey, it’s your choice…and it seems you’ve already made up your mind

MIW: So should I just say “the sex was great but I thin it has to end here.”

WS: “Sex was great but threesomes are not my scene…” If you have apprehensions about doing it in the first place then there might be a problem..

MIW: Naguguluhan lang ako.  I enjoy his company, pero takot ako sa karma.

WS: Kaya nga…you’ve been there before – do you really wanna go there again?? 

MIW: Mare,  you might have read me wrong, gusto niya akong gawing querida.

MIW: Why do I always find myself being the 3rd wheel?

WS: Just say “No thanks” – you’re better than that…and you know better than anyone, right, what’s it like to be the third wheel?

MIW: Kakaloka naman lovelife ko..

WS: Neng, learn to distinguish between your lovelife and your sex life…can you really talk about someone as being a part of your lovelife kung one week mo pa lang siya kilala and he wants you to be his querida??? He’s an asshole – dump him at the nearest trash bin.

MIW: Fuck bud kaya? Hi hi hi

WS: Pwede rin as long as you know your position in the equation.

MIW: Kaya lang feeling ko if we keep this as a physical thing, I will never find the fulfillment I yearn for.

WS: You know what you want…go for it even if it means you have to sacrifice some other thing important to you.

MIW: Why does it have to be about sex?

WS: It doesn’t have to be…except we’re human and men – as humans, we have needs; as men, we’re wired to identify sex as one of our needs…

I wasn’t sure if I gave him all the right answers or even if the answers I gave were the ones he wanted to hear from me.  I do hope that even as he searches for his answers to his Joe Jackson dilemma, he’ll always know that his friends will always be willing to listen and he’ll never have to sing All By Myself.

When Push Comes to Shove…

I watched Yodsanklai demolish Sean Wright in two rounds in the semi-finals of the Contender Asia in April.  The fight was electrifying.

Sean was one of the best fighters I had seen in the series and I had no doubt that he’d reach the semis – he was an aggressive fighter who knew his muay thai and knew what he wanted.  Bad luck for him that he was pitted against Yodsanklai.

In the first round, Yodsanklai pounded him with thigh kicks which limited Sean’s round-houses.  He put up a good fight but Yodsanklai was playing smart: after going for Sean’s thighs, he knocked-out Sean in close combat via a move that my trainor had taught me a few days earlier. Evade the punch and return with an upper-cut.  When Sean got up after the mandatory count, his eyes were glazed as he probably realized that his time in that ring was nearly done.  And it was.  Two minutes or so into the second round, Yodsanklai did a repeat and knocked out Sean.  Sean didn’t get up until after the count.

Two weeks after I watched Yodsanklai knock out Sean with the move I had just learned, I partially tore my anterior cruxiate ligament (ACL) AND posterior cruxiate ligament (PCL).  I was training for my first muay thai fight.

I spent the first week of my injury in a haze of pain as I thought that it was merely a pulled muscle – one of the many aches and pains associated with a contact sport as vigorous as muay thai.  I was under the impression that after a week of homeopathic treatments, I could still go back to training and fight as scheduled.  I was wrong.

When the week passed and the pain had not subsided, I sought the attention of a specialist in sports medicine.  He diagnosed my condition as being possibly a meniscal tear.  He told me to get an MRI so the condition could be diagnosed accurately.  I did.  The condition was worse.

I hadn’t expected it and the MRI result threw me off guard.  Worser, according to my doctor, my condition warranted an operation.  Then he left for the US.  I changed doctors.  My new doctor was of the conservative school – he told me that surgery for my condition entailed future consequences like juvenile athritis as a result of using foreign objects to hold my knees together.  He advised that I undergo a year’s rehabilitation for my knee.  Twelve months without running, jumping or any strenuous physical activity that might aggravate the partial tears to a complete ones. The news just kept getting better.

I’ve been in therapy for nearly two months – I’ve recovered some flexibility in my knee and some degree of confidence that the injury would not completely rule the rest of my life.  I talked to Eric when he was here last month and I told him that I will go back to muay thai the minute the doctors tell me that I can do so – he told me that he understood. He knows that muay thai is one of my passions as much as yoga is one of his. He respects my decision even though he says he cringes at the thought of me hitting someone or, worse, someone hitting me during a fight.  I told him that I wasn’t afraid of being hit or hitting – I didn’t tell him that what I feared was being unable to go back.

Right now, despite the visible improvement, I can’t say if I can go back.  I want to but I’ll cross the proverbial bridge when I get there.  With thigh kicks, elbow hits, upper cuts and round houses.

Happy Monthsary

Yesterday, exactly 49 months ago, I began a relationship after having written finis to a previous one.

The relationship I had just ended was my first and it’s demise wasn’t particularly neat – it was, to say the least, ridden with drama. 

A month into the break-up, I met Eric at a support group meeting.  He didn’t look like he needed the support group because unlike the majority (myself, included) he was not in the throes of a particular sorrow.  He was happy – he looked it, spoke it, radiated it.  I was irradiated.

I was hesitant to establish ties, diplomatic or otherwise, with him but when I heard from a mutual friend that certain individuals had expressed their intentions to ask him out, I knew I had to act.  I asked him out for coffee, which became dinner and coffee.  He had pasta – I had panini; the bill was Dutched.

Over the course of three months I got to know him better and felt lighter because my initial impression had been correct: He was happy – the essence of happy and, after a very long time, so was I.

From the beginning, it was a fairy tale.  I still have his first gift: a t-shirt.  He ate my first gifts:  Chocnut and Choco-Mallows (I remembered during one of our conversations that he missed eating these while he was studying in the U.S.).  Eventually, as fairy tales go, the Prince and the Woodsman fell in love.  

It was heady being in love and in la vie en rose haze we began celebrating monthsaries.  It was sweet and something altogether new to both of us but we remembered the date each month afterwards and celebrated.  To me, it was a validation of our decision to be together – despite the differences and the nay-sayers – and, yes, it was romantic.  The first time I gave him flowers, the happiness in his face lit up my own – clearly, it was a good idea.  We were concerned that monthsaries were a bit juvenile and talked about stopping after our sixth – luckily we just went on…to our 12th…our 24th…our 36th…our 48th and this month, our 49th. 

He’s thousands of miles away right now – he’s been away for two years but we haven’t stopped.  It’s not easy sending flowers overseas but I try every month or so and so does he.  I’ve already started working on his gift for our 50th Monthsary – our Golden Monthsary, I hope he likes it. 

I hope he does.