Girlfriends and boyfriends

I'm actually tasked to find someone a date, and in the most stringent of conditions. Must be twenty-three-ish. Must be five-foot-nine-ish. Problem is, I'm eighteen and presuming that I'm five-foot-nine-ish, I won't find anyone. My world is that small, after all.

Without dismissing anybody's preferences for a date, I then arrive at my question. Why does it all matter?

A few people know that I have this bag full of foreign newspapers. Some date back as far as seven years ago (and they are both yellow and smelly), but my favorites have got to be my five copies of The Guardian when they were still taking on the broadsheet format. I think around two copies of it has the personals page, and when I was fresh into college and am bored to death, I look through what people are looking for, just for fun. Already I can't remember what they are - besides, that bag is bulky and dusty, and I'm lazier than a sloth as I type - but they're definitely of some kind. Or maybe it's the British preference. I couldn't care back then.

In the Philippines you won't see anything that even resembles the personal section. You could dig deep and find them, but I sense a treatment that only the desperate post their details on the newspaper for everybody to see, although our preferences are much more public. My Friendster profile claims that I'm "just helping around", but already Ive added six out of seven online friends. "Tall, dark and handsome" is already overused, but still applies. Maybe your wishlist is complicated. If I had put out a personal ad, it'd probably ask for someone "with expressive eyes and a listening ear, for nonsensical conversations and maybe more" - but that's wishful thinking.

But we have an equivalent - text chatrooms. The mobile phone is more potent than any amount of newsprint. On the radio, in between the music, you'd hear listeners asking for their numbers to be said on air. I don't know what they all think about it. Maybe nobody knows - the screen name is also as ubiquitous. Of course, the catch is, nothing's what it seems to be. Mo Twister's probably complained about this a lot - people who claim they're this and that on their screen names, but are not really like that.

We do still place a premium over appearances. Sure, one person who wants to meet someone who's "sweet and kind" - yet more overused, but applicable, adjectives - just wants to be seen with someone as handsome as, errr, Sam Milby. (I still strongly believe he's gay.) I've met with a lot of ladies - I can almost claim, wrongly, to be a ladies' man - and in every overheard conversation they always want a handsome crush. A handsome someone. Insecurities aside - that's overused as well - who wouldn't want the best for themselves? If you'd have someone who's sweet, you'd also want them to be as hot as the latest off the catwalk. They'd all envy you, right? Oh, it must feel very good, knowing you've pounced on a million wannabes and realizing you've got someone all for yourself.

But wait. There's another catch. I just said it earlier, actually. They always want a handsome crush. So it must be merely a crush, right? You'll never know when the real thing would hit you - as they all say, it passes all boundaries - but, before then, you'd be daydreaming. But being crush material is already an accolade. The incoming CLA sophomores have this "best of" award thing, and one of the categories has to be the similarly ubiquitous "crush ng bayan" award. Not everybody would care, but they secretly wish for the fame.

I think I mentioned in some other entry something about entrepreneurship. Vicky Belo was profiled there - yes, she's rich, because all the celebrities we love have, at some point, have their faces scrubbed, their body parts "enhanced", or their urges satisfied (James Yap could be a case in point) in one of her clinics. And we, the poor ones who can't possibly afford a noselift, go to some dingy plastic surgeon and the next thing we know, we're on television, a poster boy for an operation gone wrong. It's the insecurity game, I tell you. It all starts with someone saying you're not fit for it. The lisp, the teeth, the pimply face, the glasses, the attitude...

Thankfully it actually still boils down to this. I'm grabbing Lizette's example, again - when we met we somehow ended up talking about her "pseudo-boyfriend", and why things just didn't go well. Her example's a frequently used one as of late - the bad-teeth-pimply-face thing is an allusion to my, err, shortcomings - and it seems the physical aspect of the guy manages to seep in first. Now she could be searching, but I'm not supposed to care. I, on the other hand, never particularly went out in search of someone with enduringly expressive eyes and a killer smile, but it just happens. Now it is part and parcel of the definition, although I'm not defining it any differently.

The physical isn't there to change things. it just makes things dreamier - more impossible to achieve. Yet another way to stroke our eternally bruised egos while thinking that we got the person we long wanted. It all depends on whether you're a perfect match, or not. Eventually someone's bound to be pissed off, because they just try to save the relationship even if it's hopeless from the start, or maybe insist that it's all worth it. I just end up thinking all the same, that the world is cruel and I, along with probably a handful more people, are bound to live alone, and only because people want who's on the magazine spread, or looks innocent, or has a six-pack, or is as famous (and secretly as gay, although I'm not really a homophobe) as Sam Milby.

Then again, I'm still bound to look for that date for that friend of mine. My world is still small, and I'm definitely going to get a hard time, so I'll be recruiting you to look as well. Again, he must be twenty-three-ish and five-foot-nine-ish. Oh, and I guess he must be understanding of a jet-lagged lifestyle and be a very intent listener. He must know his alternative music. And he must be a bit similar to, well, McDreamy. I guess friends really know best - but we should know better. Sam Milby is not hot, I tell you.

And your responses...

Hey Niko :D It's the lovely Mara N. Haha. I agree... I strongly think Sam Milby is GAY. And something is really wrong with his facial bone structure. But maybe my eyes have been failing me lately... not just with the faces of local celebrities, but also with my "crush" who happens to now be my boyfriend. In my world, there's a big difference between having a crush on someone and liking someone. A crush is always the hot gorgeous creature that you dream of stroking and caressing. The person you like, on the other hand, is the person whose presence makes you go giddy. It's a definite plus if the person you like happens to be your crush. :)

The physical really won't matter anymore as time goes by. You kinda get used to the face that you see almost everyday. I savor my conversations with my boyfriend more than anything. And that feeling is the most memorable thing. Aside from Sam Milby's deformities.

I feel bad for people who try so hard to stay in a relationship just because they dream of ending up with a HOT person. They won't be hot all their life. Sad but true.

And don't worry. Nobody will live alone unless they put their hearts into it. Hahaha :)

Anonymous Anonymous5/21/2007     

the only thing hot about sam milby is his last name.

mmm. sure id dream about orlando bloom being my bf since he basically is, the whole package and all, muahaha.

beauty is in the eye of the beholder =]

Anonymous Anonymous5/21/2007     

this particular article caught my eye and i really agree on what u are trying to point^^

Anonymous Anonymous5/24/2007     

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