A Cold, Cold Christmas

"I've lost him, Sally. I've lost him forever. It feels hhhorrrrible. I want to take out my heart so I'd never feel this way again."



It's strange the way things turned out. Had AD told me this over a year ago, I would have done backflips -- I was inlove with him then. I would have wanted him to drop his prick of a boyfriend and then spend his life with me. He never knew that, of course, and I wouldn't have wanted him to know because his situation was beyond my control. Like they say, Once gay, Always gay. I dropped my plans of "converting" him into a fully functioning straight guy, and then we became, strangely, the best of friends.


"You'll be all right, sweetie," I told him. "Nobody dies of heartbreaks."


"This is going to be the worst Christmas I'll ever have," he sobbed into the telephone. He was in KL, back with his family. He took a two-week emergency leave without telling anyone, apart from our boss Sarah, of his plans to fly home. I was despondent when I knew through an out-of-office notice email. He didn't even tell me in person.


My thoughts flew to the first time he opened up to me. We were in Bangkok for an assignment, and it had been weeks since he last saw TC, his boyfriend. He showed up on my hotel door, looking for someone to talk to. We talked, and mostly it was about his latest love. I tried my best not to show my displeasure. Then he squinted his eyes and covered them with his hands. He fell silent, like he was holding his breath. And then I knew he was crying. "I miss him so much it hurts," he said. I reached out and held him for the longest time until I couldn't feel him shivering in pain. "You're tired. You should sleep it off," I said.


When he left my hotel room, I knew we'd always be together. And then we were, just not in the way I imagined it.


"I'm sorry to ruin your Christmas," he said. I heard him sniffle into a wad of tissue.


"No, no, don't. Don't be sorry. We're friends, remember? He doesn't deserve you, AD." I pictured TC in my mind, and secretly I wished that his penis would burst open like a flower when he sleeps with another guy. I never did like him.


"Yeah, right. Oh well, we'd better end this call. I'll see you as soon as I get back."


"I love you, sweetie. Merry Christmas. Don't try to kill yourself, okay?" I said. "I'd be very disappointed."


"I love you, too, darling. If I slash my wrist, Sarah would kill me. Say Merry Christmas to your family for me, okay?"


We said good bye, knowing we'd meet again in the New Year. He'll be better.



*Image from Getty.

Carole King - You Make Me Feel (Like a Natural Woman)

Ah, well. The song says everything.

101

my breath was caught by
the minty breeze that blew through
a gap in the door

JUMP!

Stumbled on this video featuring Girls Aloud singing "Jump", a track from one of my all time fave movies LOVE ACTUALLY. (Which reminds me, must give that DVD a spin since Christmas is a comin'.)

Watching it so made me want to write another chicklit story. :D

3-0

suddenly you realize
that age is irrelevant
that a number cannot dictate
what you believe to be true
you start acting what you know
and decide by what is right
then birthdays become
nothing more than reminders
that you've lived another year
that you've been lucky
or blessed, whichever way
so you live with grace
and not just age with it

In the Wee Small Hours of the Morning

*With apologies to David Mann

... you listen to...

1. Jane Monheit>> If you went away
2. Jamie Cullum>> I can't get started
3. Gabrielle>> Out of reach
4. Dina Carroll>> Someone like you
5. Siobhan Petit>> The look of love
6. MYMP>> A little bit
7. Raffi Quijano>> Don't know what to do
8. Billy Collins>> Nightclub
9. Jamie Cullum>> What a difference a day makes

...then, you hope for sleep to come.

I Love Coffee

I. Good Morning

Woke up this morning with a massive headache. I felt as if I slept on a rock all night. My head throbbed like it had its own heartbeat. Figured it was just stress -- had lots of to do for just two workdays, squeezing everything to make sure the market's happy. When afternoon came, hours after every corporate requirement was ticked off the to-do list, brain was still complaining. Asked AD to do wonders on my head and shoulders (he doubled as the office masseuse), good thing he agreed. Call it best friend benefits. Had a bonus ten minute rub session, but the pain was still there.

Told to this to my mom this evening (the headache, not the massage). Asked me if I had my coffee today. No, I said.

Ah, that must be it, she said. Happens to her too. It's a withdrawal.

Currently stirring my midnight cup. Headache's gone, but I need caffeine now to keep awake. Editing duty calls.


II. Issues

Am not really a starbucks girl in the sense that I would complete those holiday promo cards to get a free planner. I don't usually order frapp (on the rare occassion that I do, it's usually on those treacherously hot days). I can't appreciate their drips (when I taste them they're all the same and it must because they've overheated the coffee). Most of the time I order the same ol' same Short Cafe Mocha with a Shot of Raspberry. It's my whole life in a paper cup -- I take it all/most of the time because it works for me. Tastes great. Makes me happy. Fuck calories.

If I wanted my own cafe americano, I'd be mixing nescafe at home. (Btw, the "new taste new aroma" nescafe tastes WORSE.)


III. Parentology

The irony is I hate it when my dad drinks coffee. He drinks it five times a day. When we're there at home, he asks us to make him a cup, even if it's eleven in the friggin evening. He's been doing this since we were ten? twelve? some odd child age. Well, better this than alcohol. And we love him anyway. Anything to make him happy.

IV. Marketing

Must admit, the devils at Starbucks are genuises. I can't imagine we ALL fell for the comfy chairs, the wifi, the coffee bean story, the brew aroma (which, I have just found, they did on purpose, like a sampling ploy), the mug merchandize, the flavor stories, even the baristas who speak perfect english (so conotic an accent that I suspect they're rich bums) ... Their coffee's a killing at atleast 80 pesos a cup. Margins margins margins. Brilliant!

V. Love

Coffee bars took over dinner as a relationship starting point. Probably the trend now is friendster/myspace>> email>> text >> phone >> coffee >> dinner >> etc. In the old days, people actually met face to face THEN asked each other out to dinner. This generation's added too many steps in the courting process. Time to streamline.