At The Bar

At The Bar

There was a woman at the bar; a guy shaking with nervousness; a guy waiting for his chance to take the woman home when she’s drunk; and a guy concerned enough to be everybody’s father.

A typical but odd setting in a bar called “Orange”. A cold day to end with a pail or two of beer on the table.

It is painful to like somebody who does not want publicity, she thought. Eyeing the man she slept with from across the table, she can sense his fear of her telling the world about them. She plans to, after drinking a pail of beer. So the words would come naturally and won’t regret what she is about to reveal. But then the people around her kept the pails coming, the topics of conversation went from life in general to relationships and all. It is the right time to tell the group about them. But she’s just smiling like she cannot talk. He on the other hand is shaking his legs, nervous to death that she might talk any moment now. His hands kept moving and shaking, trembling with fear. He watches her carefully. He cannot show any sign of care or interest with her here. Because his friend was her ex. Because he wants to avoid any kind of conflict with a friend. So he stayed silent.

The dim lights, the blurred music in the background, the smoke, and the feeling of beer on her lips. Everything is in place–everything but her.

A tall guy sat across her. He is the fatherly father of the group. He is matured enough to know that something is not right. He watches her carefully, thinking that he should protect her from any malice that is about to happen after this night.

The guy beside her was her ex. They never slept together. All they had were sweaty palms touched and kisses after dark. They broke up two months ago because she realized he isn’t what she was looking for. They broke up because she thought she can never be with a man like him, so manly and pure, so dull and does not understand her interests. He is the guy waiting for his chance to take her home when she’s already drunk. Because it feels natural for him, that he was the one whom that woman fell in love with, before.

She stands up, headed for the ladies’ room in a zigzag motion. She is definitely drunk than what she was expecting. She wants to scream. Why can’t I say it out loud?!” she thought. While waiting in line, she looks back at their table where the guys are looking at one another with a knowing look of heat and uneasiness. She wakes up a little and giggled. When she went back on her seat, everyone is quiet. She looks around and on the empty pails.

” Are we done? Okay, let’s go.” But she can barely stand the second time. She stands up and the alcohol works its way in into her. Her head aches and and she is a bit dizzy. She is about to faint when Mr. Concerned guy went to her aid. No one seems surprised because it was him and it is normal with his kind of man that he is. They led her to the stairs out of the entrance. She’s mumbling words. They laugh at that and she smiled with the thought that they are all alright, that she does not have to worry.

Outside, she turns her head on each face of the guys she is with. She points at each of them and mumbles words she cannot understand herself. Then she went beside the road and bent to vomit. When she is a little okay, she smiled. She looked at them and their faces are filled with anger and disgust. With a blank face she asked, “what’s wrong?” And they pulled her in between them, called for a cab and went inside with her. They all accompanied her home. In the cab they were silent. No one is talking until they are nearly at her house. Ex says, “I cannot believe this…” they shook their heads in unison. That was all that she heard that night.

She went home and went straight to bed. The following day Mr. Shaky guy called.

Mr. Shaky: do you remember what happened last night?

Woman: no. Why? What happened?

Mr. Shaky: you told us everything when you pointed out each one of us. You said you broke up with him because you fell in love with me, then you had a great day with me, and you wanted Mr. Concerned guy to be your best friend.

Woman: what?? No!!

Mr. Shaky: and you know what?


Woman: what?

Mr. Shaky: I liked you last night more than ever. But our friendship was ruined, we’re now on our separate ways because of you. Thank you.

And he hung up. She is left crying alone. Regretting her plans to get drunk and be frank. She despises herself. For falling in love with a boring guy, for falling in love with his friend who happens to look like her old playmate, and for wanting and longing for an older brother to care for her.

The Odd Trade

He, the silent one with hair covering his face. She, the wild card who loves a challenge once in a while. He got liquor, she’s got no vice of anything. He offers it for a price she’s willing to pay. He likes her right now, she likes him since a month ago.

With a glass of blue but not seen in the liquid, he held it low for her reach, ensuring the trade is serious business. So once upon an afternoon when the sun is warm and loving, they were there exchanging who knows what.

After some time he behaves differently, she reacts questionably. The truth hurts but it will set you free. On his birthday this awesome girl kisses him in public while this wild card gal can only raise an eyebrow. He disappears, she’s left with a broken brain.

Dear 14-year Old G.

Dear 14-year Old G.

Your first taste of alcohol. Your first taste of life outside your home. A series of firsts where all you did was take everything for granted. And you’ve got yourself a line of stags at your back. You think you aren’t beautiful and you keep wondering what is so great about you that people want to go after you. Yeah, you think your nose blocks all possibilities of a love so romantic. But that’s what happened and you were so full of it. You fell deeply in love, but with the wrong guy. Of all people, the man whom you barely know and barely even trust. But you did not think twice and you went straight for the ground floor.

The memories stay like they happened yesterday, even if the person involved isn’t around to make you remember them. But everything is still fresh and crisp like the morning sun. His face too close, his hair brushing on you, and the way he held you in his skinny arms.

You are alone on that corner again, in the dark, just watching the flickering lights of the city in the night. How I wish I could comfort you. How I wish I could lend you a warm blanket that could ease up your troubled heart. You have big a heart no one can see. You make things so romantic even if it doesn’t have to be. Your favorite word would be “Sentimental Value” and you were born to love red. The people around you might not see your worth, at least the people you don’t expect to know you are the ones who knows a little too much about you. I love you just the way you are and I thank you for being that brave girl who faced the world with tears well hidden behind the mask.

You are a wonderful actress, pretended nothing happened. Without you I wouldn’t be the person I am today. Without you I would not know how great love is and what real romance feels like. I guess your age was the best year ever…for now.

This post was inspired by The Daily Post

Lost in Translation

Lost in Translation

I often misunderstand people’s real intentions and it gets me the wrong path to relationships. But the funny thing is being misinterpreted by people for my real intentions.

I met this guy, a friend I’d like to have. A friend I’d like to keep for friendship sake. For a few minutes of talking, he expects me to praise him and make him feel dominant. He expects me to love him more than what I want. I just smile and think to myself, ” Life is unfair to people who make themselves a fool for believing that a person like me would be interested in them.” Why would I think that?

I am a person who loves to go out with people with the same hobbies or interests as me. I am a person who loves to chat all day with people who has dreams and goals and a real plan of action in their minds.

I am not that person who meets people just because and ends up the day sleeping with them. I am not that person who can just go out with people who wants to hang out and nothing else.

My words and actions may have been in a different language because people often lose themselves in translation with me. I am quite lost here.

Working for Nothing?

Working for Nothing?


I found a job. Or so I thought. I went by their rules, their game. I got curious why I wasn’t paid for my test articles which was agreed upon but I ignored it. And then I was given another set of test articles, which was agreed to be paid and posted. Yet none of it happened. I do not want to work for them anymore. But does that mean I have to suffer the consequences and not be included with bloggers’ events around town? Is there fair judgement and and equal treatment with this? I think not.