I have something to confess. I believe that only through this revelation could I ever liberate myself from this secret (albeit an open one) that I have kept for the longest time.
I have more than 10 GF’s – all at the same time. And not yet counted are the newly-acquainted ladies, all of which I’m pretty sure will later fall in that category. Yes, you read it right. I have numerous GF’s and I am neither ashamed nor guilty to admit it.
You see, I do have these killer looks (yeah, looks that make people drop dead when they see me) and I ooze with an out-of-this-world sex appeal. But in this case, I suspect that my charms have anything to do with my being a ladies man. Ever since I came to learn the existence of the other sex, I have always been “one of the girls“. Now, before you get any ideas, I must qualify that I am a genuine representative of the XY race. The last time I checked, my mind concurs with my anatomy. And I have absolutely no desire to cavort with another male.
Anyways, where was I? Ah, girlfriend… that precious compound word that completes any guy’s dictionary. Unfortunately for me, the word split into two. As in girl_friend. Yes, I am in a company of girl friends. Unfortunately for me, I am in that company.
Yes, I do have a barkada composed of bulls, but majority of my social circle are all bells. I really have this “attraction” to girls, not in a romantic way, but in a more literal way, as in the tendency to get drawn to them. Since I could remember, I have always been strangely close to them. But what’s even stranger is they wholeheartedly accepted me as one of their, what, sisters?
Being surrounded by pseudo-girlfriends boosts my pogi meter a little. But I should very well know that no matter how many pakyut I do, I will never ever be pogi to these ladies’ eyes. The only handsome people they know, of course, are their boys. I believe I have heard all kinds of marriage proposals and other girly adulations whenever their crushes pop out in our conversations, which is most of the time, I should say.
Since they sometimes see me as one of them (or worse, because I’m comfortably close they forget I’m there; voila, I vanish), they talk about their, you know, girl talks. I have become so used to hearing about it that when the time comes that men evolve and start to bleed between their legs, I think I know how to put on a napkin.
Now that I mentioned about menstruation, I remember back in high school that I once tried to tabulate their monthly schedules. Really, I did. They knew this of course and they even agreed. This was so I could avoid getting caught in the line of their PMS fire. But for the love of Angelina Jolie and everything I held feminine, they had irregular visits! Needless to say, the plan failed. Thank Venus I survived barrages of ricocheting hormones.
My sisters’ legendary mood swings always put my patience meter to the test. But sometimes, I can only bear so much that I do snap at them. Ahoy, there’s the rub! What can I do? You know, the bad thing about getting angry at your girl friends is… hindi mo silang pwedeng hamunin ng suntukan. Worse, what if they accept the duel?
I do get my dose of revenge, though. They see me as one of them, then I willingly return the favor. I do burp at their presence. And not just a plain burp, but that fat, hollow, growling magnitude-10 burp. Some do blurt out their disgust, but hey, the food is great. Too bad they’re with me. Farting… hmm, now that’s a great idea. I think it’s bio-ecology at work here, yanno, survival mechanism thingy.
(Me Part 2. Shet na malagket, dumugo ilong ko sa ingles. Pero dahil going international na karinderya natin (feeling), may Ingles na sa menu. O ha, rakernol!)
