Reading RJ Ledesma’s Lies My Yaya Should Have Told Me (which is really more about dating rather than, well, lies my yaya should have told me) made me feel immensely relieved about being fished of the murky waters that is the local dating pool. A little over a month ago I got myself into a very postmodern sort of relationship and for the past couple of weeks, I’ve been getting used to assuming the social role of “girlfriend” again (on top of balancing academics, work, and a social life).
Actually, scratch that. I can’t stand using the word “girlfriend”. I am nobody’s goddamn girlfriend. To me, the word “girlfriend” brings to mind a sniveling, whining female who can’t be away from her “boyfriend” for two minutes without collapsing like a helpless heroine in the tragic conclusion a bad romance novel, or without coming up with the most ridiculous accusations about how he probably found the opportunity to sleep with some ditz during the whole two minutes he was away. Sometimes the word “girlfriend” makes me think of a vapid, empty creature driven by PMS, irrational bursts of anger, and the need to shop shop shop - while having the boyfriend pay for everything and carry all the shopping bags because oh noes, my life is OVER if my pink nail polish gets so much as chipped.
I am so lucky that Alessandro isn’t into that whole girlfriend-boyfriend label thing either.
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In the article on “Anger Mismanagement”, RJ Ledesma recounts how girlfriends have the “divine right to get angry at you for anything because it is your entire fault. Her problems at work, her lack of sleep, her constipation, her wrong shade of lipstick, her future wedding plans, her PMS–all these can be traced back to you.” I find it tragic that a lot of guys view their girlfriends in this manner, and I find it even worse that these views actually have some basis. If there’s one thing I don’t understand about women - particularly women in the Philippines - it’s how demanding, dependent, and clingy they are on their partners. I’ve yet to hear a guy friend complain about a valid reason for a major fight - say, infidelity. More often than not, fights usually occur because he went out for a beer with the guys and the girlfriend was home nursing a bleeding uterus and I guess she’s incapable of menstruating without her boyfriend holding her hand throughout her period.
On one hand, I do understand why women get upset about the most seemingly inconsequential things. Every now and then I get these Moments of Female Neuroticism and it bothers and embarrasses me every time they happen.
Take jealousy, for instance. As far as I can remember I’ve always been the jealous type, but it’s not the psycho, accusatory kind of jealousy. It’s more like the “you think she’s pretty and now you’re going to leave me for her because I’m not enough for you” kind of jealousy. Or the “your ex is so hot, what the hell are you doing with someone like me when you could be with her?” type. It’s irrational and it’s stupid, I know - but when I get those moments of jealousy it just makes so much sense to be jealous. I do my best not to make an issue out of it but this Alessandro guy, he can read me like a book. So I end up admitting that I do feel a little twang of jealousy when he mentions his ex or a girl who’s interested in sleeping with him. Then he laughs because he claims that I have nothing to worry about. But I do, I do! Because he’s so hot and I know lots of girls want to sleep with him and people cheat on their partners all the time and it’s not that I don’t trust him but maybe I’m just not enough as a woman and as a person and sometimes I don’t even know why he loves me in the first place.
Wow that last paragraph completely reeks of my ovaries.
At the start of this entry I made a lot of noise about how girlfriends tend to be overly-clingy. A few days ago, had this clingy moment that made me feel so disgustingly female afterwards. Ale and I were having a normal conversation the way we usually do before he leaves for work. When he finally said that he had to go, I got hit by this unbearable wave of sadness from out of nowhere. Like my heart would break if I had to see him go one more time.
“I’m going to miss you,” I said, hoping he wouldn’t notice that my voice was cracking. But of course he did. Why do I even bother trying to hide my emotions from him?
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Oh, nothing’s wrong!” I said, trying to mask my sadness with a wide grin. Fail.
“Come on honey, what’s wrong? You sound so sad.”
“…how can you tell?”
“That’s how your voice sounds before you start freaking out [over schoolwork].”
“Look, it’s nothing really. This is me being a stupid, hormonal, emotional female. It’s really nothing. You’d better go now or you’ll be late for work!”
“You look like you’re about to cry.”
“…I hate you.”
Cue embarrassing torrent of tears and my inability to explain why I felt so sad in the first place.
As much as I hate it when these moments happen, I suppose being inexplicably emotional goes hand in hand with being born female. The important part, I think, is that you don’t lash out at your partner when your estrogen levels go out of whack. Just because he has stuff to do and friends to see doesn’t mean he loves you any less. He’s got his own life to live, just as you have your own life to live. How would YOU like it if he demanded that you give him all your time, energy and attention?
Remember: relationships aren’t the answer to life’s miseries. But damn, I can’t remember the last time I was this happy. 
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This photo was taken by someone who loves me
By all means, don’t come out of the kitchen frumpy and smelling of garlic and onions. Remember to shower, gargle, spritz up, wear something earthshaking-ly sexy… whatever it takes to compete with the main course. Huh. 
