Problems. Solutions.

I got an unexpected promotion -- more money, great perks. But now, I don't know to tell my boss I'm going to resign next year to go back to school. My solution: Work hard, start training my replacement and tell my boss a month before I leave.

After weeks of hard work, I'm joining my first climbing competition next month. But now, my palms feel like the bottoms of my feet. My solution: Put ultra-moisturizing foot lotion on my hands. And not let people know. Wait, I messed that up ...

I am letting Marga enjoy her new-found singlehood. But now, my sister tells me Marg's confused and hurt at why I'm not doing "anything". My solution: I will move on as I had planned. In Baguio, I told her how I felt and she made her choice. "Anything" would have to come from her this time.

The Break Up

Joanne called my land line at six yesterday morning (funny how she does that only on days I want to sleep in). She and Marga spent Friday at a spa (for 10 hours!). I knew she was calling because she had some gossip or other.

Here goes: Marga BROKE UP with Butch on my birthday! BEFORE she went to my party. Explains why Butch didn't show. Explains why she looked so drained.

'Seems the oldies at the office had long told Marga about Butch's blatant "extra-curricular" activities. She finally asked him about it when he picked her up after her event that day; and he admitted everything. Marga was struck by how he did not show remorse and even justified his two-timing with her refusal to have sex with him (I listened quietly through this part but may have cracked my molar filling from all the teeth gritting).

I was relieved to hear she was not conflicted about parting ways with the m-f. Still, I can imagine how hurt and betrayed she is feeling. But I'm resolved to give her space. We'll talk when she's ready. Definitely no vulture moves from my end.

And hey, don't look at me. When I blew out my birthday candles, I wished for world peace and better abs.

Birthdays and Boxer Shorts

Last post aside, I've been "moving on" quite successfully. Career's doing extremely well. Abandoned badminton and took up sport climbing. I've been playing golf regularly with and getting to know a man who makes my long-widowed mother blush like a school girl. I've been planning a 2-month European adventure with Leo and another buddy for next summer -- we've dreamt about a trip like that since high school. I resolved to squeeze in as much fun as I can before shipping off to the US in the fall.

Then yesterday, my birthday came rolling in. And nothing can throw one off harder and farther than the self-doubt from turning another year older (that explains yesterday's post).

My sis threw me a party at my condo. Low key. Nothing extravagant. Cousins, school friends, office mates, old badminton buddies, new bouldering buddies. Good food, nice music, free-flowing booze. I had a blast.

In the sea of people, I kept my eye out for Marga. Since Baguio, we haven't really talked much -- both of us too embarassed, too stupid, too human to pretend that everything's peachy. She finally walked in -- alone -- a little past midnight. She had just come from an event egress. She looked dead tired; but she came anyway. Here, I will admit it -- her just being at my birthday party made my day.

As the party was winding down, she caught me in the kitchen tidying up. She stood by the door for the longest time. Then, she walked slowly towards me, calmly threw her arms around my neck and hugged me. "I missed you," she said and began to whimper sadly. I hugged her back and rocked her back and forth.

Weird thing was I knew exactly what she meant and agreed that it was a sad thing. It was sad we let what happened in Baguio strain a friendship that has spanned a lifetime. So I kissed her hair and said, "I missed you too." And followed it with a wise crack about how bad her hair smelled. We laughed hysterically -- less in appreciation of a mediocre joke -- more in celebration of getting our friendship back on track.

Without the pageantry, we declared the statute of limitations on embarassing rejections had lapsed.

We walked out to the living room where she embarassed me again with a boxed gift set of boxer shorts with teddy bears.

If You Were Me, Would You ...

A) educate Marga on how her boyfriend of a few weeks has been repeatedly cheating on her with several women -- even if it would appear like a lame-ass attempt at winning her?

B) feed Joanne the sordid details, knowing fully well she can't contain something as big as this -- and end up feeling like chicken shit for "using" your own sister.

C) jeopardize a productive working relationship with Butch (which has earned you thousands in performance bonuses), bully him into confessing to Marga and threaten to put your fist down his throat?

D) feel guilt and stop signing up Butch's office email account for porn mailers?