This is how you remind me of what I really am

For the past half hour or so I have been doing nothing but feed the mosquitoes hovering in the air. I don’t know why but all of a sudden these goddamn mosquitoes started to appear about a day or two ago and it’s bugging me (no pun intended). It’s been a very long time since we last had mosquitoes bothering us. Even at my piano teacher’s house there were mosquitoes too. If there’s one thing I hate, it’s a bug bite and I have this really bad habit of scratching my legs until they bleed. Therefore explaining my (sorta!) pockmarked legs. I finally couldn’t stand swatting and wincing in irritation as their tiny but painful needles come in contact with my flesh. I had to put on insect repellent and I smell like a medicine cabinet. But I guess it’s better than getting bitten.

I don’t suppose that while I was being made up there in heaven, God coated me with some sort of guy-repellant before sending me down to earth. I just got a phone call from this guy named Anthony. Rewind: Anthony is a friend of Glaiza, and he happened to see my picture in her wallet and found me cute. Guys always think that I’m “cute” like I’m some sort of fluffy little bunny rabbit, something they can pat and cuddle and then leave in a cage when they’re through. Anyhow I’ve seen how he looks and he seems okay but you know, he’s not really my type of guy. Anyhow, here’s how he happened to come across my phone number. He and his friends bring the White Pages to school so they could rip up the pages, crumple them into balls and use them as missiles or something. Very mature. Anyhow, he suddenly got the idea of looking for my number there and sure enough–we’re listed! We’ve always been unlisted and for some reason our number is there. Ugh. I don’t suppose all you stalkers out there will get ahold of the White Pages now, look up my address and kill me while I sleep. Anyway my dad found out about it and he’s gonna change our number soon.

So anyway, there’s a reason why I never tell the guys I don’t like my landline number. Simply because I do not want to be bugged by them in the privacy of my own home. But he knows now, so what can I do? So anyway, here’s the point of my narrative.

“I hope your boyfriend doesn’t get mad about me calling you up,” he said apologetically. (This was, of course, all spoken in Tagalog. One reason why I don’t like him that way–I have an easier time conversing with guys who speak English.)

Indignantly, I replied, “I don’t have a boyfriend!” Stupid, STUPID! I should’ve said yes, my boyfriend is very jealous and if he finds out about this he will go to your house and skin you alive. But I was too worried about my anti-guy campaign to even think about that.

“You don’t have a boyfriend? Really?” he sounded surprised (or was that happy?). “How come?”

“Oh, I haven’t found the right guy yet. Besides, if I ever do have one right now I’d probably treat him like shit. He’ll be very sorry he even thought of asking me out,” I said. It’s partly true, and I let him know so that I could discourage him from even thinking that he has a chance with me.

But he didn’t fall for that. “Well what if the right guy does come, and you eat your words?”

“I doubt it,” I replied firmly.

We talked about other things for awhile, and he brought it up again.

“What if you did have a fling with someone, and the guy starts to take the relationship seriously?” he pressed.

“His fault! Before anyone courts me I make sure I let him know that I’m not interested in having a relationship with anyone. But if he persists–well I can’t really do anything about that now.”

I finally ended the conversation by saying that I had to go to my piano lesson (which wasn’t till half an hour later). And then I fabricated a busy schedule tonight so he wouldn’t call me back. Free! For now.

So anyway, that conversation got me thinking once again about why I can never attract the guys I like while the guys I would never touch with a ten-foot pole get attracted to me. Now, if the caller had been someone I had a really huge crush on, this is how the conversation would’ve gone.

“So, I hope your boyfriend doesn’t get mad about me calling you up,” Mr. Gorgeous Dream Guy would say apologetically.

“Don’t worry, I don’t have a boyfriend!” I would reply.

“You don’t have a boyfriend? Really?” he would sound surprised (or could he be happy?). “How come?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I would say with a sigh. “Guess I haven’t found the right one yet. It’s really hard to find the perfect guy these days. And knowing my amazing luck I probably won’t meet him until I’m old and wrinkled.”

“Well what if the right guy does come, and you eat your words?” he’d ask after what seems like an eternity.

“If the right guy is anything like you I’d probably go out with him,” would be my reply.

Ahhhh! How I wish! But really, I’m not looking for the perfect guy. Not yet anyway. I don’t even have a crush on anyone right now, and I probably won’t meet Mr. Gorgeous Dream Guy until like, centuries later.