Bitchicisms

The thing about lookism that separates it from all the other isms is that its something people practice everyday. From the hair stylist we choose at the salon to how much we tip our waiters, to how we react to our colleagues and superiors, to the way we smile at service crew, all this is influenced.

In a Discovery Channel special hosted by Elizabeth Hurley, scientists theorized that people are now judged by looks because we are no longer in an interactive and engaged community. We are surrounded by strangers who we judge primarily by looks.

Being a type-A lookist, I am obsessed with how people look and how I look. On a good day I think I'm interesting looking, on a bad day I think I look basically like a fat slob.

Well yes, it's a good thing I'm as hard on everyone else as I am on myself. If the standards we apply to everyone else we apply to ourselves, then we would all be hot, gorgeous, tight tasty people.

And yes, I need to work out more. I also know that I need to get out of this self indulgent funk brought about by depressed episodes, heartbreak, birthday celebration and miscellaneous other confusing conundrums. And I admit I kinda look like shit.

It's funny though. How looks matter. I get a thrill when i get checked out. Tuesday night I went to a restaurant/bar K with T and B, and I was wearing this all pink ensemble: pink polo shirt, pink skirt with a ribbon near my crotch. A guy there kept looking at my ribbon.

I get a thrill whenever I'm checked out. By strangers, by friends, by lovers. I know it's a hormone thing mostly, any woman gets checked out by guys. Any passably attractive woman can get laid if she wants to.

The thrill in being checked out is feeling guys turned on, just seeing the wheels turning in their heads as they do that quick assessment. Women do it to. In less than 3 minutes, you can imagine someone naked, imagine how they'd feel in your arms, in your mouth, in your hand, try to taste them, smell them , hear them in your mind and gauge how far things could go if you actually tried making a pass at them.

I always do that evaluation. Most of the time the evaluation holds true. Sometimes no so. Guys just make me tingly. Hold some mystery. Make me so damn hot. Weirdly enough they seem to affect me more the less I see them. Relative strangers, guys that I'm just starting to get to know. It's the whole wondering what it would be like that makes me wet at night.

And yes looks are a big factor. Sorry nice guys, you guys are fun to talk to, nice friends but basically sex won't be an issue. At least it won't ruin the friendship.

There are certain things you do without thinking. If you're like me, then there are a lot of things you do without thinking, hoping against hope that initial instinct will prove right in the end...or not, and ride out the consequences.

There are very few regrets in my life. I've always enjoyed everything I've done. Including all the embarrassing ones. Such as the ones I'll list down here. These things aren't just embarrassing, they are things that literally shock me into disbelief whenever I remember that I was able to do all these goddamn things.

I was recently talking with an officemate R, a guy I never really got to be close close with. (Heck, possibly the only officemate I consider myself close to at this point is O. I'm not big on friendship. Hehehe.)

(Had to narrow the list to 10. This may be a 5 part post. All with 10 items each in the "I Can't Believe..." list.)

10)Had sex in public at White Beach, Galera with another couple about 3-4 feet away. Yes, has cliché written all over it. (Add to that the fact that the guy was a bartender I met there. It definitely was.)

9)Macked on friends. Rather, I let friends mack on me. At the same time. In the same bar. I mean, it just kinda felt evil...made me feel dirty...and very very very horny I must admit.

8)Let someone utter the words, "Want me to fuck your mom?" during sex. Ok. This seems like kind of a big deal. But since I have a personal policy to disregard everything that is said during, 15 minutes before and 15 minutes after the sex act (making the previously uttered "tang ina ang sarap mo" and "tang ina ang libog mo" and "did you miss me?" statements null and void too), makes some sense. In fairness to the guy, we did interact for quite a while and he was quite decent and never really did pursue my mom. But still. I could've just said, "Get the fuck off me" or "You seem to have a small penis".

7) Engaged in sex while my brother was sleeping in the same room. I refuse to use the excuse that I was drunk, because I wasn't. I was sleepy...and it was a threesome. I think I caused irreparable damage to my baby brother.

6) Made out with a manorexic guyliner-wearing dude in several public places. Ok. I really really liked him. But then I realized I made out with him at Starbucks, Brothers Burger, several cabs and 2 bars. The bars and the cab understandable. But a fast food restaurant?! And a coffee shop?! I must've really liked the fucker.

5) Let an FB take pictures of me in my underwear. Given he's apparently working on a cruise ship now. I guess sailor's have me to thank for their sweet wet dreams.

4) Puked during a first date. I know my alcohol tolerance is low. I know my pot tolerance is low. Damn. I still did it.

3) Fondled and let myself be fondled in a tiny office. No clothes were taken off, all touching was through denim or cotton. But still. We could've gotten caught. Fuck.

2) Gave someone a blowjob underneath the covers when 2 other people were sleeping in the next bed. Oh God.

1) Got a hand job while I was in training with at least 30 other people. Oh yeah, and with only a jacket to cover us. And people suspected. And the trainer actually told us to "behave". Yeah right.

Impulsive, brash J. Yep. Don't regret any of this. But when I remember these things, I get to thinking, wtf, do I even know myself anymore? Damn.

On the TV series The L Word, most of the plot points refer to the legendary Chart.



The chart is composed of the complicated, intricate and beautiful entanglements between people who have sex with each other. According to character Alice Pieszecki, everyone is sleeping with everyone else. And these constant connection and dissolution of bonds.



In real life, I've realized that this is probably true. Though a real life chart would be virtually impossible, given that people would most probably be ashamed and the person doing the adding would become pretty obvious.

What would a chart look like if it connected me to all the boys I've slept with? All, oh, all 24 of them? There would be multiple arrows near my name. I'd be like Shane from The L Word.

I bet it would be funny to know that my old entanglements connect me to the daughter or a Filipino music icon, a very very rich yet supposedly psycho bitch, a cutter (about 3x), several patrons of a certain bar, a nice girl member of a youth activist group, a seemingly nice girl ex-classmate, apparently a member of the Sex Bomb Dancers (or so he said), Bicolana strangers, some patrons of a club at The Fort and several other unknown women and/or men (especially if I include all people I've been somehow sexually connected with, not just the people I've been banging).

Being really curious may have something to do with it, but I guess I'm definitely curious who I'm connected with. It's like Friendster and Multiply only more fun, because there are very tangible and real connections involved.

On the chart, people aren't connected by ambiguous yet pretty words like "friend", "co-worker", "colleague", or "parent". In the chart people are connected by being lovers or having sex or fucking or making love or being fuck buddies (and yes there are minute and infinitesimal differences between all those terms).

Come to think of it, the chart can connect me on a first degree basis to at least 72 people who I don't even know. 72 is a very conservative estimate based on the assumption that each of the 24 people I've slept with and fucked have been with only 3 people (which I seriously doubt, I bet based on these people as I know them, I'm probably connected with 720 people).

And while I bet this should somehow bother me, it really doesn't. I know people who've had mutual exes and I've had mutual FBs with other people. It's not anything evil or insane or weird. These entanglements are what make life interesting. Interconnections, damn, you never know how small the world is till you meet someone who fucked someone you fucked about 10 years ago.

And yes, I am an L Word addict.

...I realized that:

H was really just looking for someone to fuck

People who don't want to be your friend will not really be your friend.

Some relationships are really just fleeting and meant to pass by.

We all have to move on.

Like all relationships, friendships have to be worked on.

Two people must be friends to establish a friendship.

Men who do not want relationships will come up with the most rational and logical reasons.

All emotions will eventually pass.

Daydreams will not change reality.

But ideas can change reality.

Thinking about something is only half the battle.

Sex will always remain sexy in my mind.

Everyone is prone to thinking that they could and realizing they couldn't.

I am not weak for liking someone.

I am not weak for feeling.

Life goes on.

What are the signs you're life is stagnated, boring and other wise dull? Well, other people literally won't see it. They would think the ennui of working middle class people is not typically seen as a great concern. It is seen as a direct and often predictable result of being a rat in a rat race, a member of a capitalist-consumerist society.

Still, how do you decipher that this boredom is real and means that you should move on, move away, move up or just goddamn move.

1) You are always late. Because things bore you you no longer bother to show up on time for them. This applies to dates, work, gimiks etc... The frustration of another person no longer matters. Who cares if that person has been waiting for ages just to have drinks with you? Would you really give a flying fuck if the company is losing money by you not being prompt? Who gives a fuck?

2) You notice all people's flaws. The petty crap. The annoying extreme campy gayness (yes though I adore gay people grating screams of temper tantrums are just not my thing). The cheezyness, the rudeness, the lack of etiquette and proper decorum. Even if I am normally not normal, life still would be better if I were not privy to all this opportunistic lack of essence and substance.

3) Always tired/bored/sleepy/hungry. Yes boredom can lead heavily into emotional eating and the like. This basically means there is nothing to look forward to, nothing excites you. Yet often your body stays wired, ready and taut. But nothing ever happens. This insane overflow of static energy will cause you at times to leap out of your skin.

4) Escapism. Alcohol. Again food. Sex. Blow Jobs. Hunting. Clubbing. Drugs. All these mean something. It means your life is so boring for you that you have to manufacture drama to keep it entertaining.

5) Well. Just plain boredom. Bored out of your skull. Your status message on YM says you're bored. You constantly check Friendster and Multiply and you have www.addictinggames.com bookmarked. You have 4 or more blogs that are constantly updated. You are up to date on all weird and entertainment news

So what does this all mean. It's time to go away. Leave. Change. Move on.

O,
I am sorry I never got to do it with you. It seemed like something worth trying at least just once. I am still curious. But our friendship and the progress we've made with that friendship is something I treasure more than what would have been a fleeting and temporary instant of sexual gratification.

You are insane and sometimes offensive yet you bring out the best and worst in me. I thank you for bringing me into your world. Your bar. I know it was begrudgingly and sometimes you regret doing so, yet meeting H, and yes, even V, and seeing C again were opportunities of a lifetime. I have become more myself and definite in life because of you. You have taught me many things and I know your business acumen is very very precious. I treasure you even though you never really treasured me.

Your life is something I am happy to be privy to.

V,
Yes. Thank you for letting me experience 6 orgasms in one night. Thank you for nurturing the masochist in me. For letting me feel pain. And letting me know what a rim job and anal sex feel like. I can sometimes still feel you. I miss you fucking me. Even though you have a girl now. I sometimes still want you. Even when I was seeing H I still wanted to have sex with you. You were the ultimate uncomplicated sex partner.

H,
I still regret that we had something less than what we could've had. Yet I know it's the best thing that could have ever happened to me. I needed you to let me feel pain. I needed to want you and not get you and feel messed up and take time for myself. I needed to feel. And I felt pain after you. I felt all tingly and tight and horny and then I felt warm and like shit and so dirty.

You made me feel.

And that is something I will never forget. Maybe it would have been better if you hadn't been gracious and nice and intelligent and everything.

I know now we could never ever be anything other than just fuck buddies. We would've started killing each other once we were tied up and we would've been dead in two weeks time. And I know now I could not take the lifestyle you have and it is best that you are back with M and I know you are happy as you deserve to be.

I occasionally miss you and sometimes I still want you yet the main feeling is relief that I realized, faster than I knew before, that it was time to leave.

I will stop blaming myself for being too distant or closed off, because I knew you wanted things that way. Because you were also closed off and often distant.

B (DiVirginizer),
You. Made me. Bleed. Very very badly. Because I wanted it. I liked it. You were the first. I liked you so much. Despite the fact that you were not that hot and not that good (something I realized years later). I liked you because you liked me. And you were sincere.

I pushed you away. Though I think you were confused at that time too. I didn't exactly encourage you. I'd always been detached and lost and I felt that I did not want to nor need to be with anyone. And I saw you again after several years and pretended not to know you even when you were my first fuck, first love, first heartbreak.

I think you taught me the fine points of dealing with someone you loved yet could not love. Unrequited love. What a beauty.

You told me off later. Said I pushed you away that you wanted to be with me yet I felt the need to blow all that up and run away while still being near enough to make out.

N (X),
Thank you. Just plain thank you. For everything.

Emotions flooded me whenever I was with you. I became overwhelmed with a barrage of feeling that I haven't really felt since. I always felt different when I was with you. Like I was a little bit weird. Like I was in love. And I was. I loved you. And I loved loving you. I even loved being in pain after you. I haven't given myself freedom to feel since then. I've never been that into someone else. Despite the others being more handsome, better, bigger, smarter, richer, more suited to me than you. I just have never allowed myself to abandon all control the way I did when I was with you.

P (2 or 3 year FB),
My longest relationship. I guess because you loved nothing more than cunnilingus. I also guess it was because we were uncomplicated and just simple. We had sex. Just sex. No strings attached. Just that. Fucking. No pretensions of anything else.

It was time to leave when I did walk away from our little thing. I mean, you were getting old. You were having difficulty keeping up. And while that would've been ok with someone I actually liked, FBs who had difficulty keeping up weren't really desirable.

A (college lust),
I'd always wondered what it would be like to fuck you. And fate gave me that chance to figure it out and finally experience it. Finally I could have it and let you fuck me and hear you shout "Oh God" as you came. I finally got to touch your smooth soft butter caramel colored skin. And see your face. Near and near and near and very very pretty. I got to see you look at me as you asked me to hold you.

F (nice boy),
Maybe. Just maybe. In time. I might be ready for nice boys like you.