Mr. Ken Doll

Ken needs a Supergoddess Barbie

Ken needs a Supergoddess Barbie

He was a male model… He did tv commercials, but he mostly did ramp.  He was goodlooking — in a boyish way.  He was tall, he had this really dazzling smile… and a really hot bod.  He was like a Ken doll.

He was a good friend of a boyfriend.  Boyfriend used to do some modelling as well, so naturally he hang out with fellow models.  That was how I met Mr. Ken doll.

When boyfriend left the country, I stayed in touch with some of his friends.   When boyfriend eventually became an ex, Mr. Ken doll expressed interest in dating me… but didn’t really know if it was the right thing to do since I was the girlfriend of a good friend.  It didn’t seem right.  It was like crossing a boundary.

We did go out several times.  We talked a lot.  We laughed.  We flirted.  We watched basketball games together.  We talked about our favorites — his was carrot cake, mine was coffee.  We had a good time.

I liked being seen with him because he was a Ken doll… and I felt like I was Barbie.  I was living very girl’s dream.  I was every girl’s source of envy.

Going out with Ken made me forget about the heartbreak caused by long-distance boyfriend.  I thought being with another goodlooking guy will fill the void left by an ex.  In a way, it did.  It did make me forget… but only for a short while.

Somehow the thrill of being with Ken was fleeting.

One night, I just suddenly realized that Ken and I didn’t have anything in common.  I tried to dig deep to feel something towards him… some love or deep affection… yet I didn’t find any.  There was fondness, yes, but that was just it.  Nothing more.

Perhaps the only connection we truly had was the memory of my ex-boyfriend… his ex-friend.

We parted ways amicably.  No tears, no drama.  I never wondered what “could have been” because I knew Ken and I weren’t meant to be.

What I learned from the whole Ken experience is this:  You really cannot force yourself to love — or even just like, LIKE — someone if your heart isn’t there.  You cannot force yourself to feel a certain way towards someone.  Or even if you do try, in your heart of hearts, you would know that you’re not fooling anybody else but yourself.

Kissing Ken may have been fun, but it didn’t make me his Barbie.  He didn’t turn out to be my Prince Charming, too.  Good thing we were both mature enough not to pretend we were something we weren’t.

Some things are really just not meant to be.

It’s Ken’s birthday today.  And his real name’s Ron.

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photo via google images

 

 

Bittersweet love

i saw this advertisement in a newspaper about an essay writing contest.  the ad said to write about your personal experience on a given category.  i said to myself, why don’t i submit something?  i love to write… and i know i have had quite a number of memorable experiences… so why don’t i write about them?  — and hopefully win an overnight stay at a really expensive resort?  

not a bad idea, huh?! and so i sat down and wrote. 

the category i chose was Love.  I wrote about a love experience…  something that happened more than a decade ago.  for some reason, as i was writing and reliving the event, it felt like i was transported back in time.  somehow, i could still remember every detail of the story… well, almost every detail.  

it felt like the whole thing happened just last year, or maybe two years ago… not as far off as 16 years back.

i often get that feeling.  whenever i write about MY experiences, or things that happened directly to me, I can recall almost every little detail.  more so, i remember the feeling, as well.  i smile when i relive the good moments, and i still feel some tinge of hurt when i remember the painful ones.  sometimes though, mere words are not enough to describe the feeling.  it’s like it is there but you cannot grasp it in its entirety.  yet you can feel… and the feeling sticks to you.

though i know that people normally would just like to remember the good times, i let myself recall the bad times, too.     it is because of the undesirable things that i have been through that i am who and what i am today.  it is because of the heart aches and the disappointments and the pain i felt at some point in time, that i turned out to be emotionally strong.  it is because i cried buckets of tears over some people in my past life that i don’t get easily hurt or offended now.  and the irony of it all, it’s because i experienced losing love that i learned how to better appreciate and value a new love found.

as i was writing, i realized how much i have changed and grown… from that young, hopeful twenty year old whose love story i was writing about, to the thirty something present me.  truly i am no longer the naive girl that i was back then.  i have come to accept how some things are just not meant to be.  i have come to understand why there are hellos as well as goodbyes. 

people enter our lives for different reasons.   the people who make us really, deliriously happy can also be the very ones who will give us intense pain.  yet this shouldn’t stop us from letting people in.  because regardless of how short or long a person chooses to be in our lives, our experiences with them teach us various lessons.  at the very least, we get to feel something because someone shared a moment with us.

 some people stay for a while, some don’t stay long enough.  but then again, there are also the ones who choose to just stay

BFFs

yesterday was the birthday of one of my best friends.

it warms the heart to know that she is perhaps my oldest friend from school — oldest not because of the age, but because she was my very FIRST friend in school.  i still remember our first day in grade 1… when i entered the classroom, this girl ran from the other side of the room and called out my name to welcome me.  we have been friends since.

we have seen each other through good times and bad… crushes,  break ups and heart breaks, graduations, proms, weddings, baptisms…  you name it.  we have known each other practically more than half of our lives.

i can count with the fingers of my two hands the number of real friends that i have today.  i guess when you are younger, you tend to stay in a group and you think that all of the people in that group are your friends.  but then as the years go by, people change… some move away, some move to another group, others just choose to be with other people… still there are others who you realize you have nothing in common with, thus, you drift apart. 

i read somewhere that people enter one’s life for a reason, a season or a lifetime.  this is so true. i have had good friends from school that i hardly talk to now.  and even if we get the chance to talk, it’s like we have missed out on a lot of things and yes, things are never the same.  it s nice to reminisce about moments you shared in the past, but at some point, it ends there.  you get stuck in the past.

and then there are those who stay.  those people you grow up with, build memories with, burn the phone lines with… even argue with at times.  these are the ones who know you for who you are, who can tell you what they honestly think about your boyfriend (or husband) and still stay friends with… the ones who can tell you that you are getting fat, or you are looking like a hag, yet you won’t take it against them.  these are the ones who will stand by you…  whatever season in your life you are going through.

friendship is a product of experiences… of love and care and communication.  it is something that one has to nurture, one has to work on.  no, it doesn’t have to be hard work, but if you want friendship to last, you are going to have to share yourself… share your time.  if you cannot always be around physically, at least try to reach out through phone calls.  reach out and communicate, otherwise you can lose something precious.

my best friend — also known as “my person”– lives at the other side of the world.  we don’t see each other regularly like most friends do, but thinking about it, i can now say that we both worked pretty hard to sustain our friendship.  we used to send letters by snail mail… and then emails… and now we send sms and we chat. almost everyday.  we come from different time zones, yet we  know what’s going on in our lives.  and it’s comforting to know that despite the distance, i am sure that she understands whatever it is that i am going through, and she is there for me, and vice versa. 

my other best friend is also a cousin who at present is also in another time zone.  yet i know that the 5 hour difference doesn’t make a difference in our relationship.  i am positive that she will readily reply everytime i buzz.

and then my best friends from elementary and high school — birthday girl included, —  well, like i have said, we have seen each other through good times and bad.  i believe we have enough experiences and memories that will stick us together whether we like it or not. 

i used to have a really good guy friend back when i was still in school.  sort of like the big brother that i never had.  for some time he was my Linus blanket.  our friendship gave me that certain sense of security… that warm, fuzzy feeling.  but  we were very young then.  and so we grew up… and we grew apart.  our experiences brought us to different directions… and there was no turning back.  some people enter one’s life for a season… we have had our season.

there still are a couple of dear friends whom rarely see, but  i know will be my friends for life. funny, too, because one of my good friends at the moment is someone i never expected i will be friends with years back.  never even talked to this person before.   

yes, i can count with my fingers the number of my BFFs.    they help keep me sane, they laugh with me and sometimes at me,  they keep my feet on the ground yet they help me reach for whatever is out there in the skies… they may not be plenty, but they are special.  i know i am truly blessed.

so stop me now before i start quoting from the Little Prince… (It is the time you spent with your rose that makes your rose so important… )

You get my drift.

of time tables, magic mirrors and aviator shades

yesterday, my cousin/best friend asked me where i see myself five years from now…  if we weren’t just communicating via online chat, she would have seen my jaw drop. 

then i gave her an honest answer… i never thought that far.  in fact, i haven’t even planned for this year… so, five year planning?! gosh.  it seems the farthest i’ve seen is beyond this coming weekend.  is that bad?

and then i asked her why i need know where i see myself in five years…  she said because i will never get there unless i know where i would want to be.  i won’t get there if i have no idea where”there” is.  makes sense.

while chatting with another friend… hmmm, i seem to be doing a lot of chatting lately, huh? but that’s another issue…   back to the other friend, well, he jokingly asked me “if you are looking at the mirror, what will you say to yourself?” … okay, so he was just joking around.  not really expecting a serious, well-thought of, honest-to-goodness reply (he didn’t get any from me either)…  but then for some reason, i ended up asking myself the same question.  if i were to look in the mirror and tell myself something, what do i say? (without sounding like someone with multiple personality disorder) maybe i should tell myself to start making a 5-10 year plan…

i was never a “planner.”  everyday, i write a “to do” list, but does that count? is that the same as planning?

i am used to writing down the things i want to accomplish (some people call them goals), or the things i want to have, or people i would want to meet… but then i never put a time table on them.  it’s always open ended… like, i always put “in this lifetime” on the heading.  no rush, but it will happen somehow. whatever it is.

now i am beginning to think that  maybe i am afraid of time and how it constrains us.  maybe i am afraid that if i give myself a deadline, and i fall short, i will think of myself as a failure.  or maybe i just don’t want to face the fact that everything’s temporal… and that we have to do things now while we have the chance — and the time — to do so.  and that maybe, just maybe, i am not ready to, again, face the fact that in another 5 years, i am older.  so, looking that far is like acknowledging that i will look older, too. 

truth be told, i am afraid of getting old and wrinkled…  (maybe i should make a 5 yr cosmetic plan…)  not that i relish the thought of dying young, too.  i am more of the live for the moment type of person.   live and savor each moment.  be “here” now, not just physically but emotionally and mentally, as well.  in all totality.  okay, so maybe sometimes i astral project when someone’s talking to me… but that’s another matter.

but then i guess my cousin is right.  i should be mature enough to plan something beyond the here and now.  i cannot just ride the wave all the time… something that i am so used to doing.  guess i should take charge of the sails.  otherwise, i might end up nowhere.  going round and round to nowhere.  scary thought. 

so next time i look in the mirror, other than just admiring my reflection  (i am vain, remember?!), maybe i should ask myself if i have done something i have long wanted to do and remind myself that time will not stop for me… much as i would want it to.

the aviator shades? there’s no connection really. it’s just a private joke between me and a friend… something about the shades bringing back ghosts of the past… see?! everything’s time bound. 

well, i think i would look good in those aviator shades.  so… goal#1… Buy self aviator shades before the month ends…

…does that count?

in the beginning…

i have always loved writing.  i guess my love affair with writing began the moment i discovered the joys of keeping a diary.  as a young and painfully shy child, my diary was my place of refuge.  all my thoughts, all the things i wanted to say but couldn’t, were expressed in the pages of whatever fancy (or sometimes cheap) notebook that i used as my diary.  

i think i wasn’t even a teenager yet when i started keeping a diary.   and it continued as i got older… i used to write about anything and everything.  i wrote about when i started dating… when i started working… whenever i traveled… i simply enjoyed documenting the things that happened in my life, whether good or bad.  in fact, i loved writing about the bad stuff that happens to me.  i write and then i laugh.  my belief then — even upto now — is that when you write about a bad experience, the next time something not so good happens to you, you can always look back, read back and realize that you once went through something bad, if not worse, and you survived.  in a way, it’s like saying you can survive anything.  time passes… bad moments, too,  will pass. 

oh, i miss my diaries.  i had lots of them.  if not for the tragic incident of having lost most of them when we had our house renovated, i would probably still have them with me today. honestly, i still cringe everytime i think about the fate that befell my dear diaries.  when i remember the really personal details that were written within those pages, well, i can’t do anything but wish that whoever got to read them had a real good laugh or at the very least, got entertained even for a moment.  it is possible, though, that my diaries were just taken by the garbage collector and sent to recycling… 

haha, now isn’t that a funny thought?  all my life’s memories and moments had been recycled…

so this is me. partly.  i write about anything that i feel like writing about.  being a parent, i also write about parenting stuff.  no, i don’t claim to be an expert, but it wouldn’t hurt to share my thoughts and ideas to others, would it? 

B