Fuckwittage!

June 15, 2008

11:57 PM

Very bad day. I went ‘round Jake’s earlier in zomboid state. He and Mart were going on and on saying I had to get back on some kind of horse and started – frankly insultingly – surfing through the Guys4Men website.

Indignantly, I didn’t want to look at guys4men. Although, admittedly I told Jake once that PGMA should set up a government dating agency for the Singletons. He reminded me of that,errrr…, ‘brilliant’ idea and I thought that political integrity was important.

While they went on to surf through some g4m member’s profile, I thought some of them were outrageous. Mart was reading out loud, shoving a large piece of a leftover Krispy Kreme donut into his mouth. ‘ “Genuine tall attractive male 36, no chubs please, good sense of humour, would like to meet, civilized, matured, stable for discreet uninhibited no-commitment relationship. “ who do they think they are, these creeps?”

I sniggered that these guys should have a sense of humour to be too mean to fork out enough to say in genuine words that ‘No Chubs please’. G4M turned out to be very entertaining. You can actually read the members’ profiles advertising themselves like contestants on Blind Date.

One profile says, ‘I’m handsome, I’m very passionate. I’m a gymbuff and I’m looking for a very special guy. He’ll take pleasure in having a good body.’ The nerve. And there wasn’t any face picture, all self-taken shots of his groin and chiseled torso. Later, I learned that in g4m lingo, they’re called ‘hipon’. Savor the body, and treat the head like trash. Harsh.

Another profile was, ‘Hi, I’m WildDad. I’m tall, I’m Makati-bred with black hair, dark eyes, long black lashes and a lean, wild body….”’ Mart read out in a stupid voice. They were cajoling me to message him. And I asked why. Jake went all coy then. Turned out whole Singleton Depression weekend thing had catapulted him into responding one of the g4m messages. Mart and I had accusing stares at Jake. And Jake was defensively telling us that he’s not going out with any of the guys. He was more of convincing himself than us.

I got back home to hear my celfone’s message tone. From an unlisted number. ‘Hello, Francis, this is WildDad…’

My bloody friends must have given my g4m profile and number. I was horrified by the sense of danger implied by a total stranger having my phone number, I did not respond but merely read his second message that said he will be at Starbucks 6750 Ayala tomorrow night.

Then immediately I called Jake and gave him bollocking. He said we’d all go and meet WildDad. And they said, I should go out and date. They were convincing me that it wouldn’t hurt to be wasted just a bit. They’ve known me to be the Mr. Decency and all that. So plan is, we are all going tomorrow night. Ho hum. Maybe Jake and Mart are right. I have just to move on, not keep thinking Mark. Worry about lashes, though. How long exactly? Fantasies of WildDad’s lean, wild, devil body slightly spoilt by image of WildDad blinking under the weight of lengthy lashes like Walt Disney Bambi.

I got to Starbucks with Jake and Mart in tow to sit at other table and keep eye on self. No sign of WildDad. Only man on own was horrible old creep in plaid shirt and sunglasses , who kept staring at me. Where was WildDad? I gave the creep filthy look. Eventually, the creep was staring so much and decided to move. I started to get up then nearly jumped out of skin. The creep was holding up a red rose. I stared at him aghast as he removed his ridiculous pair of sunglasses, smirking, to reveal a Barbara Cartland-like pair of false eyelashes. The creep was WildDad. I rushed out in horror followed by Jake and Mart, collapsing in giggles.

We were utter bitches. Mean. But hey, that was false advertisement from WildDad. And besides, I wasn’t really up for meeting up. My friends made me to meet WildDad. If it were me, I would’ve lifted weights instead of dating. We walked back to Jake’s condominium. Ordered a very sinful pizza and spent Saturday night watching the complete second season of Prisonbreak.

Francis