Before I Do

Chapter 3: Sir Chief, My Friend

"So Kit, do you have a date for me yet?"

My guy friend, Denver, asks me this question as soon as he answered my call one Friday night after my work shift. Then again, when you work as a public relations officer for a concert venue, work never really stops. So I'm not really sure if it's really the end of my shift or just a brief pause in my never-ending to-do list.

"Wow!" I reply. "I actually called to invite you to dinner. Why are you assuming that I have a bimbo for you already?"

Denver, my ramp-model-turned-law-student-turned-chief-of-staff laughed.

"You work at a government agency already," I tease. "Finding a date shouldn't be a problem anymore, right?

Despite the grueling work I left at the office, I take off to meet Denver that night at this expensive Filipino restaurant in Quezon City. He continues to laugh about his current and highly debated single status over dinner.

Two years ago, he traded his shirt-jeans-sneakers getup for the more polished Barong Tagalog-slacks ensemble. Representing his boss on national television does great for his looks.

But I can still remember him feeling so depressed at his aimless state. Tonight, he's signaling the waiter for one more bottle of the local beer he loves so much, which is three times more expensive here.

But Denver doesn't care. He is, after all, on someone else's payroll. The beer arrives almost at the same time his driver (yes, the bastard has one!) enters the restaurant and hands him a sleek black phone.

I hear the words 'labor,' 'transport authorities' and 'EDSA' during the one-minute call. He turns serious just before he ends it. He looks so far from the then bum Denver who parties with vacationing models from Australia just two years ago.

"Wow," I let out after his driver makes a quick and noiseless exit. "If you wear a pair of dark-colored sunglasses while talking on the phone, you can pass off as a real government official."

"In case you're forgetting, my government job is actually legit," he says, smiling. "So, what's up with you? You look so serious."

Do I really look like a joke before? I ask myself.

It seems, at least to me, every guy I know has decided it's to grow up, be an adult and make more money. Now that they're making a difference in their respective careers, I begin to realize that I spent a great number of years so focused on my love life that I forgot to plot out my career.

Even my present job isn't the result of a much thought-out career plan. This PR gig sort of landed on my lap being the first company to offer me a job when I really wanted to leave the previous one. So what if it is located right smack in the middle of an unsavory breathing ground? It offered me the exit I needed at the time I needed one the most. Two years into it, I start to question what possessed me to work in this dump.

Instead of strengthening the building blocks on my way to bigger bucks, at twenty-seven, I am still consumed with the on-and-off thrill of my love life. I complain when I'm single. I complain when I'm in a relationship. What is wrong with me?

"Johnny bought a house," I blurt out.

Denver's thick brows rise for a quick second and goes back to Earth. Even without words, I can tell that he is impressed.

"That's good, right?" he replies. "You guys have a house already."

"But we're not yet married," I say.

"So you want to get married?" he smiles, mocking me. This fucking bastard knows too well which lines to say to throw me off balance.

"Well, I like the wedding," I start. "I want the gown. And the flowers. Oh and the same day edit videos. I like the photoshoot session. Of course, I'll look more fabulous in the photos when I get married now while I'm younger right?