Men, they’re a complicated lot.
I think they should come with a user’s manual or an operating system for easy reference and usage.
In my life, only three men matters.
That would be my dad, The Hubby and my baby brother.
And as fate would have it, the men in my life takes the cake on the word “complicated” and “uncooperative”.
Take my dad for example. First and foremost, I am the biggest daddy’s girl you could find. Last Saturday, I had the pleasure of having breakfast with Mr. G (another complicated male) and his adorable daughter — and watching them as they eat brekkie, whispering in between bites of pancakes and fries, I suddenly effing missed my dad. Big time.
You see, me and The Hubby lived on the same compound/house with my parents (we’re due to move out by end of the year) but even though I see my dad everyday, it is seldom that I get to talk to him and ask him how he has been doing. My dad’s 60 years old and I know that he’s not getting younger. I worry about him all the time. I’d freaking die for him if needed–that’s how much I love him.
Growing up, I was a complicated kid–who sought refuge to a father who always understood. My dad is a quiet, contemplative man. He delights in little things–like (buy all you want) grocery trips at the Landmark, brand new shoes and wallet, T-shirts from places we visited. My greatest achievement to date, is being able to treat him and mom to Boracay and Cebu for a much-needed R&R (The Queen and I shouldered the expenses). While he is quiet, my dad changes to a completely different man when drunk. He would talk and talk endlessly about missed opportunities and what-could-have-been’s in his life. He’d end the rant with highlighting his biggest achievement: that is sending 3 kids to good schools even when he himself did not finish university. Then he would hug me and kiss me and say sorry for drinking again that night.
I couldn’t imagine my life without my dad. I’d be totally loss and alone. I always tell myself that if I get rich or win the lottery, I’d bring my parents to some foreign country where they are assured of a good life and good health. Where I am assured that they’ll be with me for a very long time.
I married a person who possesses almost the same qualities as that of my father: a man of few words, very kind and hardworking, understanding yet scary when angered. The Hubby is my exact opposite: I am loud, feisty and is immature at times. My other half is contemplative, very calculative and understanding. This man–while at times, easy to figure out–can be as complicated as a Robert Jourdan novel.
The Hubby is not the type to reign me in on my dreams and on what I want to do. Instead he lets me be but never failed to be quietly on the side–egging me, coaching me, ready for times I fall back with a heavy thud. He doesn’t have a lot of rules in our marriage. Just one: to always honor our vows. Sometimes, I wonder where would I be if I haven’t met this man. Maybe successfully crossing the Philippines and SG, single–dating, engaging in a series of relationships minus the commitment (I am commitment-phobic. The Hubby was the only one who got me to commit). But, I am not sure if I’ll be happy as I am now.
Lastly, we go to the Baby Brother–Mr. Complicated himself.
Meet Mr. Emo (rockstar dude-skater boy-tortured artist), this boy has a very complicated attitude. He eschews any form of social interaction (minus nights out with his GF), hates social networks and spends time playing his XBox 360. My baby brother has the power to embarrass the shit out of me by dissing my drawings and lame attempts at photo shop. But Mr. Emo (in all intents and purposes)ALWAYS gets what he wants. As a kid, he was always the first one to have a bike, inline skates, the latest gadgets just because he was the youngest. To this day, just one pout and a display of those annoyingly stupid puppy eyes would make and the Queen relent.
These are the men (who matter) in my life. I would probably still meet a lot–be awed and amazed on how cool or talented they are. Or meet guys who has the power to turn me into an embarrassing lump of stammering idiot. Guys who make my eyes glaze with admiration and inspiration. Guys who’d warrant multiple entries in my journal and here in my blog.
But (so far) there are only three guys who I’d willingly exchange my life for.