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.
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.
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