How To Be A Single Girl 101 (Baka Girls #1) [Completed]

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

I pick up my rucksack for want of something – anything – to do and take out my compact mirror to examine my reflection. It isn’t a pleasant experience, trust me.

I’m not saying that under normal circumstance I’d threaten any Eva Longolia’s L’oréal contracts but until recently I’ve been relatively okay with my looks. I inherited good bone structure from Dad’s side of the family, good legs after Mum’s and I’ve even – after many years of angst – learned to live with the washboard stomach I sadly didn’t inherit from either.

At the moment, though, my most striking feature is not the dark eyes or full mouth I used to be complimented on, but my skin – which is so pale I look as if I need basting. I went for one of those spray tans a couple of weeks ago to see if its adverstised ‘natural, golden glow’ would sort me out. Unfortunately, my knees and elbows ended up with such and alarmingly orange tinge that I’m convinced the beautician who apllied it must have been sniffing glue.

To add insult to injury, in less than a month, my size ten-twelve frame – the one I took so utterly for granted that I even managed to complain about it at least twice a day – has somehow been replaced with one that is precisely sixteen and a half pounds heavier (and counting).

Yes, you read that right: sixteen and a half pounds. If you hadn’t realized until now that it was physiologically possible to put on that much weight in such a short period of time, then I assure you, neither had I. But it is – and I have. Probably because I’ve spent the last couple months (six) comfort-eating for the Philippines.

What has caused all this?

Oh, what do you think? A man. My man. Obviously, a man whom I’ve been in love with for five years and counting (I still love him, you know). At least Greg used to be my man. But now he no longer fits to that description.

No matter how many nights I spend weeping bitter tears into my pillow. No matter how many hours I spend with Leona Lewis crooning out of my iPod. NO matter how many times I’ve accompanied well-meaning friends (BAKA Girls) to karaoke bars and night clubs and tried my best to look convincing while belting out “I Will Survive”.

I snap my compact closed and throw it back into my rucksack. I sighed dramatically at nangalumbaba na lang.

“Hoy! You look like someone na namatayan.” Sita ni Charlyn sa akin. It’s our girls night out. Well, after Greg dumped (damn, that word sucks!) me we’ve been going out every Saturday night. Usually, nagka-karaoke nga o kaya naman nagba-bar hopping.

“Namatayan namang talaga ako.” Sabi ko pa sa kanila kaya naman yung lima nagtatakang napatingin sa akin.  “Namatayan ako ng puso anim na buwan na ang nakakaraan.”dugtong ko pa kaya naman nakatanggap ako ng isang malakas na batok mula kay Ann.

“Aray naman. Kailangan talagang mangbatok?” reklamo ko pa. Masakit kaya yun, kala niya.

“Eh ang OA mo kaya. Humanap ka nga ng ibang lalaki. Di yung pinapaikot mo yang mundo mo kay Greg na pinapaalala lang, iniwan ka.” Sabi pa nito. Bakit ba ang brutal ng kaibigan kong ‘to? Though lahat naman kami may level ng kabrutalan, si Ann talaga yung mas malala. Nasabi ko na ‘yun nung una pa lang hindi ba?

“Oo na. Oo na. Hindi mo na kailangang ipagdiinang iniwan ako.” Asar-talo na naman ako lagi. After Jasmin’s last song biglang sumunod na tumunog yung pamilyar na tugtugin. I will survive! Napangiti na lang ako while the others groaned.

“Hindi ka pa ba nagsasawa diyan, Liz?” tanong ni Bee sa akin. Ever since na naging ritual na sa amin ang pagka-karaoke every other Saturday night, hindi mawawala ang kantang to sa listahan. Feel na feel ko pa namang kantahin to. Somehow, yung kantang ito ang naging favorite song ko. Maybe I’m convincing myself that I can survive a life without Greg. I can. And I will.

                                                                                                   ****

Nakauwi ako sa apartment namin, luckily, without a scratch. Medyo nakainom din kasi kaming anim kaya naman kung anu-anong kalokohan ang nagagawa. As I lay there sprawled across the bed, I inhaled the scent from Greg’s side. Ngayon ko lang naalala na hindi ko pa pala napapalitan yung bed sheets na nagamit namin. I know you think it’s kinda gross (I must admit, it is.) na hindi ko pa siya pinapalitan kahit magpi-pitong buwan na nga yung nakakalipas. Siguro’y unconciously ayaw ko lang mawala yung tanging naiwan ni Greg dito. All his stuff have been cleared after that day na nagkita kami sa Taft. Lahat ng gamit na siya ang bumili at kanya ay kinuha na niya. Ni wala pa nga siyang decency na magpakita sa akin. Talagang  sinigurado niyang may shift ako sa hospital nung kinuha niya yung mga gamit niya. Kaya ito, yung tanging amoy ng after shave at cologne niya yung naiwan. Inhaling Greg’s scent, I found myself tripping down the memory lane.

We met during a night out with the girls for me and a night out with the boys for him. Our paths converged at a certain hot spot in the street in the days before they spruced up the area for the tourists and when hens and stags threw back tequila slammers in heroic quantities.

While I cant recall the exact path of our conversation, I know that Greg and I hit it off so well that I kept expecting to see a little fellow with wings and a harp hovering in the background.

When I woke the next morning I remembered he’d asked for my  phone number but didn’t think he’d follow it up. But he did. He phoned me that very day – and when my mother heard his accent (May accent siya! One of the things I loved about him is his bloody accent) she went into a veritable tizz. Greg is originally from England, which, as far as my mom is concerned, makes him practically aristocracy.

That was how it started. Five years down the line we were still together, still – I assumed – very much in love. But, then, it turned out I’d assumed a lot of things.

I’d assumed we were soulmates. I’d assumed we’d be together forever. I’d assumed that on our wedding day, as I arrived at the church where he was supposed to meet me at the altar, he’d turned up too. Yeah. Yeah. I managed to assume as far as having a wedding, bridal gowns and all.

Silly me. I’d assumed wrong.