Hymen and Babies

People say that in the old days if you so much as get caught holding hands with a guy, then you sure would be married. Maintaining a spotless reputation was on top of the list back in the day. Apparently, for single women, reputation has a lot got to do with virginity.

Nowadays, obviously, the culture has somewhat shifted. The state of a woman’s hymen is now mostly a non-issue. In fact, intentional tearing of the hymen due to certain “recreational” activities does not qualify anymore as a reason to force couples to marry. These days, it is the status of the womb that has become the deciding factor for many marriages. Tying the knot due to pregnancy, mostly unplanned, it seems, has become the rule rather than the exception. I don’t mean that as a criticism; rather, a mere observation.

Image Source: goosegreaseshop.com

Image Source: goosegreaseshop.com

As a woman, whether you are from the olden days when indulging in premarital sex would earn you a stoning or at least the reputation of the village slut or you are a “modern” woman living in today’s supposed more liberal view of your gender, the fact remains that you are still forced to conform to society’s presribed behavior, which is still for the most part, biased, pretentious and self-righteous.

How familiar are these situations?

A: X is getting married.
B: Is she pregnant?
A: Yes.
A: Oh, that’s why.

A: X is getting married.
B: Is she pregnant?
A: No.
B: Then why?

Image Source: kustomkoozies.com

Image Source: kustomkoozies.com

A: I don’t understand why X won’t marry her boyfriend. They’ve been together for years and their son is about to start school.
B: Because they don’t want to get married.
A: But why? I don’t understand.

A: X is pregnant.
B: Wow. So when is the wedding?
A: I don’t think she and her boyfriend are planning to get married.
B: But they should, shouldn’t they?

I cannot extol on the valid reasons to marry. There are thousands of references written by experts that you can use for that topic. Besides, at the end of the day, to marry or not to marry is definitely your choice. And your partner’s, of course. Whatever reason you may have for marrying your partner, may it be something that would solidify your marriage and keep you together, rather than drive you apart. And more importantly, I dare say, may it also be something that makes you happy.

Image Source: wowglowingbride.com

Image Source: wowglowingbride.com

 

 

The author (an almost spinster) is being pressured by her family to find a suitable husband soon or at least have a baby. But she would rather marry for convenience if given a chance.

 

 

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Reflections You Need Not Concern Yourself With (But I’m Sharing With You Anyway)

I hope that halaya doesn’t take offense that I’m more of a flan person.It’s nothing personal really. Unless you consider preferences personal. Oh wait, they are.

You know those times when you feel like everything is unreal and that you are being taped, and you can almost hear the canned audience laughter? No? I’m pretty sure my life is a hilarious sitcom. Too bad I don’t star in it. If my life is a series then I’m Ted Mosby’s red telephone booth.

There are weekends when you’re too broke to go out or too tired to dress up or just generally not in the mood to be with people. That’s when you’re confronted by the lifelong question, why are you alone? So then you try to fix your closet and rearrange your room in the hopes to lose the ill thoughts. Then as you lie in your bed tired from the unexpected clean-up, there it creeps again: you are alone while everybody else, couples that is, are dry humping on the dance floor, cuddling or snuggling in bed. But do not give in to despair for in today’s world there are ways to make you feel less alone. All you have to do is go online, order a cheeseburger meal from McDonald’s and a caramel sundae. Because at this day and age, no one is ever truly alone as long as there’s McDonald’s delivery. Don’t forget to tip the delivery guy. He knows where you live.

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If you know me in real life or you’ve been reading this blog for some time, you pretty much have an idea now that my middle name is Awkward. Seriously. It’s like if awkwardness is an Olympic sport, I’d be decorated with medals now. And one of the best places to be awkward is on elevators, especially when there’s another person trapped with you for a couple of seconds. Sometimes I know that I’m just oozing with awkwardness that it either flatters or freaks the other person. I tolerate and forgive those who freak out. Very understandable given my unsure way of standing and/or leaning on the wall and my nervous finger hovering at the emergency button while furtively stealing glances at the other passenger. But to those who are feeling flattered, perhaps thinking I am about to ask for their number, well, don’t flatter yourself too much. I am naturally awkward irrespective of places and people. Nope, nothing special about you. By the way, can anyone tell me what happened to elevator music?

Let The Slow Clapping Commence

Photo courtesy of tumblr.com

Photo courtesy of tumblr.com

Greenbelt apparently is a haven for expats. And where there are expats, you will also find the — how should I say it delicately, uhmm, you know the girls in skimpy dresses or short shorts with matching f**k-me heels? But just to clarify, not all of them are prostitutes, the other half actually are girlfriends/wives of the expats.

Sunday night, my friend, Ryan and I decided to brave the rain for some much needed alcohol fix. We were supposed to meet at 10 at Distillery but apparently, they’re closed on Sundays. So then we headed to Greenbelt, which not surprisingly, was still abuzz. The rain has stopped then but the air was thick with humidity. My shirt was drenched in sweat and my hair stuck to my nape. I was in my usual shirt and sneakers combo. For someone on a nightout, I looked like I just finished an intense workout.

After a quick dinner at Cucina Andare (pretty much their version of banchetto) we went to look for a bar and settled for Spicy Fingers at Greenbelt 1. The place is nice if you’re into red decor and somewhat pricey drinks. Uhmm, yes, don’t go there wearing red. You’ll blend with the couches and you could easily be mistaken for a server and/or crew.

Quite naturally, Ryan and I surveyed the surroundings and realized that we were in a place crowded with expats and their significant others, Filipina dates/girlfriends/wives. Now this is the part where I have to duck because you’ll be throwing rocks and tomatoes at me but I would just have to put it out there. I’m one of those people who make fun of Filipinas with foreign partners, especially those with cringe-inducing older partners. My friends and I refer to said expats as “pangkabuhayan showcase.” I guess the nearest translation of that is a source of livelihood.

Of course, not all of these interracial relationships are fiscally motivated. I do have friends who have expat partners without the economic factor being the forefront of their love stories. For this post, I won’t be using the current nationwide statistics of these unions because I’m too lazy to research the numbers. Instead, I’ll use the crowd at Spicy Fingers.

So most of the couples there were American and European men, mostly middle aged with Pinay partners aged early 20s to mid-30s. Roughly. There were also a group of Indian couples with Filipino friends. Or maybe they were Turkish. We could hardly tell. There were only 3 tables expat-free, Mine and Ryan’s, a yuppy couple’s and a group of 4 girls. To be honest, we don’t really know the reputation of Spicy Fingers. For all we know, they’re really a famous hotspot for interracial nightouts. But anyway, Ryan and I couldn’t help talking about these couples. We both admitted we were being judgemental in thinking these women are all after money and/or getting out of the country. And at the height of meanness, every time we see a Pinay-expat couple with age/looks disparity, we would do the slow clap. Too much age disparity deserves a slow clap with standing ovation. That mean.

You see, Ryan and I truly are not just ignorant, prejudice pricks because soon after, we launched into a socio-economic discourse of these relationships. Yes, we poke fun at these Pinays but how many among us see them as women who gave up the traditional romantic notions and instead decided to be pragmatic and made sacrifices just to provide for their family, help send their siblings to school, help a sickly relative get proper medical treatment, help parents build a house with a roof that could withstand typhoons and so on and so forth. Isn’t that noble than, say, marrying your childhood sweetheart and still asking money from your parents because you’re short on rent? Of course, I’m not saying that my example is a representative of most Filipino couples. What I’m trying to point out is that my Filipino couple example isn’t a butt of jokes, but those interracial relationships are.

I can’t help feeling sad looking at these girls who were mostly my age. Can you imagine being young and sleeping next to someone older than your father? How about relocating to your husband’s place where the sun does not show up for months? Most of all, how would you feel knowing that your family and friends talk behind your back about how you married your husband so you could get a green card and/or send your brother to college. Also, as is always being pointed out, these women actually help the economy, mainly due to remittance.

But I really shouldn’t feel bad for these women. What do I really know about what they think when they lie at night? Why do I even think that they are sad and wish for a different life? For all I know, as they lie next to their husbands at night, the last thoughts they have before drifting to sleep is how grateful they are for the life they live.

I don’t want to preach about how we should probably lay off on the jokes and the slow clapping. It’s not my place to do so. Besides, I know I’m still gonna make the jokes and do the slow clap. But I hope we try to see them in a different light, too. How about respect for their choice? How about appreciation for their wisdom and courage? But geez, I wish they would lay off on the skimpy dresses and the stripper heels.

 

*For Tasos. When I fell for you, the thought of you building my parents a big house in the province didn’t even cross my mind. I did daydream though of us and blue-eyed kids in a classic Greek house. Lol.