Ironic, I’m succumbing to his irony.
0040 hundred hours, I am feeling lethargic about everything -- work, boyfriend, blogging. I can sense a red blotch on my left cheek, as it rested so well on my left palm since forever. I can't seem to lay my fingers on the computer keyboard to write a piece of sunshine. My vision is always gloomy, grey, dull and damp.
I want prairies and grasslands. I want butterflies and dandelions. I want to see how the wind caresses the bromes like fur. And the sunshine, thick and abounding the earth. I missed how I pleasurably entertain myself with my own imagination, writing stories on people's faces, drafting a blog post all over the hot pink stage of a beauty pageant, documenting trivial matters on a cell phone camera and run a quick caption in thin air.
I once wished to have a chef boyfriend so I could get a taste of fancy food or fine dining cuisine. I can't afford its fancy price. When I see my man cooks in the kitchen, it is one hell of a Sean Cody, rape me Jamie Oliver.
I once wished to have an intelligent boyfriend. I wish he doesn't talk Tagalog, that he'd rather speak English than Filipino. Then, if a friend asks, "Do speak anything than English?" He would say, "Sorry, because we talk English at home." And, I will find so much pleasure looking at my friend's pathetic face on Boiling Point on MTV.
I once wished to have a spontaneous boyfriend. Someone who will elope me to Baguio City at 11 o'clock on a Friday evening. Well someone already did, so let us say Bangkok, or Macau and we will play the "question game." Whoever answers a question first, instead of asking a question after a question loses a piece of clothing. And, we will do it in a pool, of course when we are supposed to don less.
I once wished to have a boyfriend who has a stable job, hopefully someone who earns more than I do. Someone who can buy me a decent dinner, especially if he is not a chef. Someone who cancels my weeknight where-are-you-right-now, because he's busy as a beaver at work. Someone whom I will fight on text, because he has no time for me. And then he will drop by in the morning, devour my morning breath and then we will eat… pause… breakfast together. I don't want him to stay though; I want him to beg for me everyday to live with him in his studio-type condominium. And, it will be like that for a long time.
And who never wished to have a good-looking boyfriend? Screaming biceps and jerking like alive triceps, teeth so aligned nearly annoying and sweetness so extra-sweet almost phony. I'm head over heels already. Can you blame me? But, he doesn't cook; even to fry an egg, very lazy. He speaks Tagalog, and speaks Cebuano than English. He is spontaneous, spontaneously plans and spontaneously cancels a plan and whatnot; spontaneously, unpredictably annoying. Does he have a job? No. Although he drives a car, rents an expensive studio-type condominium, but worries about tomorrow's food from time to time. My boyfriend is my big irony. He is living a life so ironic to a life that I desire.
Now I stare morose at the blinking cursor, my thoughts languished into oblivion.