Manila, May 6th, 2017
“Sweetie, I’m running late to my date with Kulas,” I told Astrid over the phone while in the Uber on my way to UST.
“Let him wait for you,” said Astrid. “Isn’t he aware by now that he’s dating the Queen?”
“I’m sure he is. I remind him every day,” I answer. “Besides, I don’t want to be late. He’s always on time… unlike some guys I know1.”
As soon as I got off the phone with Astrid, who, for the millionth time, reminded me to have fun because I deserved this date after last year’s mess, the Uber driver told me that we’d be taking a shortcut that he knew to help me get to my date on time. The universe was on my side that night.
Manila, August 16th, 2017
Texting Diego with How would you feel about me dating other guys? was how I initiated breaking up with him. Him saying that he would be fine with it, happy for me, even was how we officially broke up. Acknowledging the improbability of us being anything more than friends over iMessage, we set a few ground rules just in case one of us decides to recklessly move to the country where the other lives to work on our relationship. The same rules were also put into place because undoubtedly, nothing could outrank what we did together as the best first date ever, and we had to respect that fact.
The rules were as follows: first of all, I wasn’t allowed to watch Star Wars with any of the guys I’m dating… actually, with any other guy. Diego was obsessed with it as much as I was obsessed with Disney, which was why he, in return, can’t watch Frozen without me.1 Finally, we weren’t allowed to take anyone out on a date in SoHo; if we couldn’t avoid it, we should never bring them to Lombardi’s. Lombardi’s was holy ground. That was where everything about us began.
Hokkaido, Japan, fourth week of April 2017
“You’ll never believe what just happened,” I started telling Astrid over the phone. I was dressed in a kimono, sitting on a hotel bed in Hokkaido. Standing outside my window was a mountain whose name I could not remember, and at its feet was the sleepy Japanese town I just spent the day shopping in. I was not about to brag about my view to Astrid, however. She had been to far more grandiose places than I have been, but I had news that would impress her infinitely more than any mountain in the world could.
Third week of April 2017
Hey. It’s 10. Haha, I texted Kulas. This was all too familiar. I figured, minutes from now, I’m going to receive a text with an insincere apology for needing to reschedule, followed by an excuse that 1) tells me I wasn’t important enough to be on time for, and 2) defeats the purpose of the apology because the excuse was meant to make me feel inferior. Another fantasy I put so much thought into was about to be thrown out again, only this time, I wasn’t wearing a hospital gown for a night of doctor-patient role playing, I was in a cat onesie1 to pay tribute to the gravity of meow in our dramatic prelude to becoming boyfriends.
Second week of April 2017
“I miss the way we talk [sic] last night,” Kulas told me on Instagram Direct. “Am I being clingy?” he added.
For someone who allegedly wasn’t looking for a relationship, what Kulas sent told me otherwise. When I went to bed after he left from our first date, he also went through my Instagram feed and liked the cutest photos of me. He was definitely being clingy, and I was legitimately confused about how to deal with him. If the rumors about him being a fuccboi were true, and if he were serious about not wanting a relationship, I had to be careful. On the other hand, he could be easing his way into telling me that he liked me, and if that were the case, I was allowed to be a little more myself.1
Manila, first week of April 2017
“He’s not really my type, but I’ll swipe right anyway because he’s sort of cute, and I’m really horny,” I thought about this guy I was on the fence with on Tinder. I know that at the start of the year, I said that I would be looking for something serious, but old habits die hard. I’m back to taking what I can get. From his profile, Kulas looked like he was 5’4”. He was giving me subtle fuccboi vibes from the outfits1 he had on in his photos, but he did go to a good school2. Thank God we matched, or else, all of this judgment would have been for nothing (except for my satisfaction because I’m a bitch).
Remember when I was looking for hook-ups in my cousin’s Hello Kitty bedroom when I was in the States? While searching on Google for bear-only apps, I came across an ad for something called ‘The Bear Party’ in Manhattan. It was a sex party that advertised mostly to bears but assured that any type of guy was welcome to join. In other words, it was an orgy, and I wanted to go.