iv0rydream.tumblr.com

iv0rydream.tumblr.com

iv0rydream.tumblr.com

iv0rydream.tumblr.com

There used to be a guy who treated me this way. I was really attracted to him but he had a girlfriend. I was the one he would turn to whenever he had a fight with his parents or with his girl, and he would call me every time he got drunk. I didn’t really mind. I didn’t allow the situation to hurt me. All I thought was that it was my job to comfort him because he was my friend (though we did hook up eventually). When someone goes to you when they are sad, it means that they trust you. They tell you their problems because they know you wouldn’t judge them. On the contrary, it does not mean that you are not important to them. We want to smile for the world but we can only show our weakness to people who understand. So this person you’re talking about has chosen to show their weakness to you out of everyone else. How in the world does that make you think that you are not important?

I have a lot of nicknames. When I allow someone to call me a nickname, it means that they’re special to me.

Ching, Arccibabe, ‘yot, Babe, Part, Bro, Dude, A, Pets, Miss Celli…

But I still don’t have a name for you, Anon.

Sacrifice. Lots and lots of it.

All I can remember is wanting to be an illustrator for books when I was 5. I already had the desire to write even then, and even then, I acknowledged the fact that I was a bad writer, so I settled for the dream of being a book cover illustrator. That’s not to say that I was a particularly good graphic artist. I can’t even make straight lines freehand anymore! Anyway, when I was really young I loved to draw and paint. Like Picasso said, every child is an artist. But I’m not a child anymore. That dream career remains a dream until now, and I get this feeling of self-pity whenever I go over my old sketchbooks filled with clothing designs and lamenting the fact that I am simply an English major now—jack of all language trades but master of none. What a pity.

Uh oh, blast from the past… I can’t remember how many anymore. That doesn’t mean I got around a lot, you know. My dating history mostly consists of short-lived relationships characterized by “it’s not you, it’s me” break-ups, flirtationships, and dillydallying. But I’m going to try and recall the erstwhile men in my life. Just for you, Anon. You better feel special! As per usual, no names will be named. I don’t kiss and tell, even though this post is kind of the same thing. *shrugs* It’s good to reminisce sometimes.

1. Loverboy. My first (and hopefully not last) love. A great cook and a huge asshole. Still, we loved each other a lot and we even childishly planned on marriage. I don’t like to talk about this now. Moving on.
2. Poolboy. Don’t take the name literally. It’s just a nickname I had for him because he did something really amusing involving a swimming pool. Hmm, this brings a lot of good memories. He was an asshole too, very arrogant, but not with me. I always had the best time with him and we never argued, mostly because I was infatuated with him and everything that came out of his mouth. Call me a lovesick fool, he was hot! And we kissed in the rain!
3. The Gentleman. I was 18 and he was 29. Huge age gap huh? But that didn’t turn me off at all. He didn’t even look like he was on the brink of turning 30. I happen to like older guys because they know how to treat a woman right. No nonsense, no petty arguments, no uncertainty. It was mostly dinner (and breakfast!) dates and long drives with him. He was, like his nickname, very gallant.
4. Skaterboy. He had the cutest pet name for me (which I will never reveal even at gunpoint haha). The fact that we met at a bar already made sure we wouldn’t last long. Still, I’ll never regret the memories. He tried to teach me how to ollie and failed. Well, it was mostly my fault really.
5. The Dude. Another gentleman. This guy treated me like royalty and I miss it. He took me to the best-kept secret spots in the city. We had the best dates ever. I honestly thought we’d be together for a long time. Until Loverboy showed up and guilt-tripped me into breaking it off with him. I really regret it sometimes. Such a good thing left for naught.
   
6. Umm…no more please.  Answering this question turned out to be a bad idea :( mentioning five is more than enough I think.