Si Bobi ang Tatay ko.
Natatawa ko sa kanya. Nilibre ko siya ng almusal kahapon. Pambawi kasi di ko siya sinipot nung Fathers’ Day.
Bobi: Tinatanong ka nga pala sakin ni Jun.
Bobi: Si Jun Cruz Reyes. Mag workshop ka daw sa kanya.
(sorry for the name-drop)
Natatawa ko sa kanya. Hanggang ngayon umaasa pa rin na makakapagsulat ako ng seryoso. Palanca daw. Sayang daw. Di naman ako karapatdapat sa pagsusulat.
Ibang-iba talaga sila ng Nanay ko. Ibang-iba ang pangarap para sakin.
Tumango na lang ako kay Bobi. Paano mo sasabihin sa sarili mong ama na nilamon na ko ng corporate world at ng pag-pangarap sa ibang bansa? Paano ko sasabihin “Tay, salamat. Pero matagal na’kong patay.” ?
Di ko masabi dahil mahal ako ni Bobi.
Happy Fathers’ Day.
Do bad relationships run in the family?
My boyfriend and I have been together for quite some time now. He, being of the right age, tries to bring up the “M” word from time to time. I just laugh it off and turn on Romeo’s Blue Skies.
My family has a history of break-ups that I can trace up to my great-grandparents and my cousins twice removed, from both my mom and my dad’s side. Suffice to say, I don’t know what a great marriage is like. And his side is not faring so well either.
Don’t get me wrong. We didn’t end up as trashy, attention-seeking, drugged-out rebels. We’re both hard-working, and love taking care of ourselves and other people. We were both raised in loving, intellectually stimulating families, broken or not.
We could, at least, each name one super successful couple from our aunts and uncles. (I love you, Tita Mina and Tito Arcel!)
Over the years, we’ve had our share of ups and downs. He says “At least we have a good idea on what not to do.”
The only thing I know for sure is that we make each other happy. And we intend to keep it that way for as long as we can. It’s a lot of hard work (given our doomed genes) but it’s worth it.
Epic story of a Mother finding a suspicious tiny black cardboard box in the bathroom.
Ma: Eeeeek! Anak! what are your condoms doing in my bathroom?! (shoves the box into teenage son’s drawer)
Son: Ma! That’s not mine. That’s ate (older sister)’s tampons.
Ma: (scratches head) Oh… I thought…
Me: See, ma? Be glad that, at least, he’s practicing safe sex.
Son: Correct! Now these are condoms. (brandishes a bigger shiny pink box) Made in Japan! They’re expensive, you know.
Ma: How did you…?
Son: Ate’s boyfriend gave them to me.