I can do everything, except...

Something Like Life
June 28, 2008

WOMEN have come a long way in defining the parameters of what being female, or being feminine, is all about. With our gorgeous physical attributes, we also use our brains to become accomplished in whatever field we choose to excel in. Many women go on to become outstanding managers, executives and in any office position traditionally held by men. They are highly paid and treat themselves to new furniture, new jewelry and new wardrobe, and reward themselves for hard work with vacations they pay for.

Some of us have even gone on to make a mark in extremely dangerous sports or adventure hobbies, which, only a few years ago, were started and dominated by men. (I don’t know about you, but hiking in the woods is rather extreme for me.)

And we even know how to change a light bulb.

I know my mom still worries sometimes that I may not find the right man to settle down with because I’m not “needy” enough. I can buy the correct light-bulb wattage to change the old one, make minor repairs in the toilet, use a hammer on nail to put up photo frames, unclog the drain, set up my Internet connection with my Wi-Fi router, sync my Mac with my PDA and cell phone, etc. I don’t need a guy to do those things for me.

I even remember asking my Pop for a drill as a birthday present. I was living away from my parents at the time and just could not put up any artwork on my apartment walls as they were all cemented. Pop thought I was out of my mind for wanting a drill before finally pronouncing my present of choice—at about P3,500 for a basic Black and Decker unit—an expensive proposition. Hmmph!

I can juggle work and household chores. I can live without a maid except that now, I have an 80-year-old mother who needs to have someone home with her when I’m out. And I love cooking.

But unlike most career women, I don’t drive. Most people who know how tough I can be sometimes are aghast that I don’t even own a car. I just tell them that I’ve never really seen the need for one, even if I did grow up being ferried to school and everywhere else in the family car driven by Pop or the family driver.

Well, sometimes the car and driver were not available as Pop often used them for work. So thanks to Mama, I did learn how to use public transport. As a child in the late ’70s, we would often take a bus (no air conditioning back then, folks!) to go shopping at Zurbaran, or to my Pop’s office on San Marcelino Street in Manila to play tennis, before checking out the new goodies at Rustan’s, which was just a couple of blocks down that road. Of course, this was a time when the Metro was still pretty clean, and traffic was not yet the nightmare that it has become.

In the ’80s I rode the jeepney from Del Monte Avenue in Quezon City—just a five-minute walk from where the family used to live—to De La Salle University on Taft Avenue in Manila for my college classes. And the ride took a mere 30 minutes!

So you can say I’m pretty much “self-sufficient” in terms of moving around the Metro—and having a boyfriend with a car is just one of those bonuses of being in a relationship...ut not a necessity. To this day, I generally travel around in cabs—I am a long-time suki at R&E—or via rail. (When traveling by way of the MRT, it helps to be in a New York state of mind.)

But since my Pop passed away last year, I’ve been saddled with his car. It is in dealing with this monstrosity that I find myself at a loss and sometimes missing having a man. I just don’t understand cars or how they work.

When I’m in traffic, I’m the one who’ll say, “That’s a cute red car,” when men would probably remark, “That’s a fierce Jag” before proceeding to discuss and dissect the thing for its speed, maneuverability, etc. I can discuss with men rather exhaustively why a Mac is better than the PC, but my brain will automatically switch off when talk turns to comparing a Honda with a Toyota. To me, a car is a car is a car.

My friends have been egging me to use Pop’s car, saying that because I’m malakas ang loob, I can do it. Some of them think I’m afraid to drive, which is not the case. I even have two A1 driving certificates and a current driver’s license to prove I can drive. I just don’t like manual transmission. It is tedious to shift gears, not to mention look for a parking slot. I would rather drive an automatic, and I’m toying with the idea of buying one just to drive Mama around. Personally, I don’t need it. Why would I want to stress myself sitting in a traffic jam, or worrying that when I come out of the mall my car would no longer be where I had parked it?

And now Pop’s car has died on us from lack of use. My sister’s driver, who first took a look at it, said it was the battery. But when he tested it, the battery worked fine on his car. Then I find out the car doesn’t have a carburetor like most cars, but a fuel-injection system (not that I know what a carburetor even looks like). I mean WTF?!?! What the hell does a fuel-injection system look like?

So our electrician-cum-mechanic discerned, with some divine intervention I suppose, that the fuel pump was not working daw. He dismantled it for us to bring to the car dealer where Pop had bought the car. I had enough sense to ask the sales guy there to have the thing checked first to see if it’s actually working or not, before dropping P8,500 in the car dealer’s cash register for a new one.

When the sales guy returned, he said it might not be the fuel pump after all, as it was working okay. He had the general look of pity of most men talking to women who don’t know cars. He said something else might be wrong with the car that activates the pump to bring fuel to the engine. I could hear him speaking but my eyes glazed over, and I couldn’t focus on what he was saying. Sigh. I could really use a boyfriend right now.

So now I’m waiting around for another friend’s mechanic to come around to really get a good look at that blasted car. I will probably end up agreeing with everything the mechanic says, and buy whatever he wants me to buy for the car, because I wouldn’t have a clue about anything coming from his mouth anyway. I can only hope that this mechanic would have more credibility than our electrician, as he is trusted by a guy-friend who is into the whole car thing.

Sure, I enjoy being a girl, but there are just days when I realize that I can’t do everything.

***(Boyfriend applications will be accepted at stella_arnaldo@hotmail.com. You must be at least 18 years old to apply. This is a short-term gig...until the damned car gets fixed.)

(My column, Something Like Life, is published every Friday in the Life section of the BusinessMirror. Photo from BM.)

What I know about men

Something Like Life
March 14, 2008

THERE are just certain truths about men that all of us women must learn to live with. We should know them by heart, and keep them in mind whenever we’re: a) trying to attract a new man in our life; b) kicking out the old one; or c) considering to become a nun.

These truths I’ve culled from my experiences with most of the nuts I’ve had the tough luck to associate with, as well as from the experiences of my girlfriends in their own relationships. Perhaps in knowing them, we can better deal with our issues with our men.

1. Men like long hair. It’s insane but true. They think long hair makes women more attractive and feminine. Short hair just makes women look butch. Men like to feel the long hair running down a girl’s shoulders and back. They just find it sexy. (All those shampoo commercials aren’t helping us short-haired girls one bit, but thank goodness for extensions!)

2. Men will always have a wandering eye. Don’t be insulted. It’s not because your boyfriend doesn’t love you. It’s just because men are easily visually stimulated. Even if they know they can’t have that gorgeous babe strolling by in a tank top, miniskirt and stilettos, they’d still like to fantasize that they have a chance with her. (And admit it, if George Clooney walked by, wouldn’t you gawk, too?)

3. Men like it when you listen to them. No matter how boring their boardroom battle stories may be, they will love you when you are quiet and attentive, and make the proper supportive comments at the right time. (Besides, they, too, have to listen to you go on and on prattle about your day with your girlfriends, so try to be generous and patient.) Now, a buddy of mine told me, if your man refuses to tell you what’s on his mind, it’s probably because they know you’re not going to listen anyway. Hmmm…

4. Men don’t have ESP. If you believe your man did something wrong, don’t go sulking about the room and just decide not to talk to him. Don’t make him guess what’s eating you up. In the same manner, tell them what you want or need. So if you want your husband to buy you for Christmas that nice bracelet displayed in the jeweler’s window, tell him. Of course, it does take some of the romance out of relationship but, c’mon, would you rather he surprises you with a brand-new set of Teflon-coated pans? (Personally, I’ll take the pans over the jewelry.)

5. Men can be insensitive. Sometimes when you think he’s doing something deliberate to hurt you, this may not really be the case. It may be because he’s really clueless about doing the right thing for you. I remember a friend griping that for her birthday, her husband gave her a diamond ring that once belonged to his late wife. To her husband, perhaps he just wanted to give his new wife a great big piece of rock to show her how much he appreciated her. To my friend, it was just distasteful. (I joked that she should sell the rock and buy what she really wants.)

6. Men don’t like it when their girls talk about their ex-boyfriends. No matter how your present beau acts like the topic is just part of another intellectual discourse with you, it really eats him up. When you talk about your ex(-es), your boyfriend unconsciously feels you are comparing him with whoever came before he turned up in your life. (I made that mistake once and my man kept on bugging my girlfriend how he measured up to my ex. Thank God, I have friends who are would-be candidates for the Best Actress Oscar.)

7. Men are liars...especially when they want their women feel good about themselves. So stop asking them questions like “Do I look fat?” or “Is this dress too tight?” Men will never give you a straight answer. If you need an honest answer about the way you look, go ask your gay best friend.

8. If a man is really interested in you, he will call you or ask you out. He will not pretend that he lost your phone number. Or make some lame excuse, like he’s been very busy. Even if the latter were true, he will find the time to get in touch with you, yes, even if he never was able to get your phone number. He will find a way to call you.

9. Men won’t say “I love you” more than once. That’s just the way it is, girls. He’s said it once, you should have listened. Don’t expect him to say it over and over again just to make you feel secure. Most men think their actions speak louder than words and anything they do for you is proof enough of their love for you.

10. Corollary to the above, men don’t like talking about “us”. He’d rather wing things and rely on his own past experiences or the experiences of others to monitor his relationship with you. If there’s a problem with you, or if he’s feeling uncomfortable in the affair, he will talk to his best friend about it, but try to avoid discussing the issue with you. And, yes, he will make a lot of excuses (e.g., “I’ll be working late”) not to see you, if he’s already feeling unsure about the relationship. If he’s already found a new girl to replace you, he will come right out and tell you it’s over. (Hopefully, you don’t end up like Wikipedia founder Jimmy Whales’s girlfriend, who found out things were over between them when he announced it in a Wiki entry. In retaliation, Jimmy’s ex, Rachel Marsden, has decided to sell his stuff on eBay. You go girl...don't get mad, get even!)

11. Men will do anything for sex. Yes, even tell you they love you and will marry you. I’d like to think it’s just because of their role in the universe, like males in most animal or insect species. It’s their job to help populate the earth with their kind, so they will hook up with any female, whose role in the universe is to bear and nurture the offspring. So, yes, men think with their dicks. And at the slightest opportunity (or in other words, basta makalusot), they will have sex with any female that interests them, even if they are already married or in a supposedly committed relationship.

And lastly,

12. A man will love you more if you’re less intelligent than he is, and if you make less money than him.

Any more truths about men you want to share? E-mail me.

(My column, Something Like Life, is published every Friday in the Life section of the BusinessMirror. Photo from BusinessMirror)

Give it to me, baby!

WHAT a shame that there's no Rome Season 3 no? I just finished watching Season 2, although to be fair, the ending was really perfect. It could stand on its own and not have another season. But damn, HBO allowed The Sopranos to go on for seven seasons why couldn't it give the same lifespan to Rome? The latter is basically The Sopranos BC!

Still, I can't get enough of hottie James Purefoy who played Marc Antony so brilliantly in this drama series. (Actually even Ciaran Hinds who played Julius Caesar in the first season had some old guy appeal as well.) To this day, there's still an ongoing petition for HBO to revive the $8-million-an-episode series. With that kind of budget needed, la talagang pag-asa for us to see a revived series.Sayang talaga. Why Lord why?

Too bad James fucked up his audition as James Bond and now we're stuck with that ugly blondie Daniel Craig. Sexy James would've given Sean Connery, THE ultimate James Bond, a run for his money.

Anyway, check out this sizzling video of my darling on YouTube. It won best video last year in some obscure amateur awards in the UK or something.

Some kind of fitness story

Something Like Life
June 8, 2007



A NUMBER of my friends texted their congratulations.

Some, curiously, asked, “Ano’ng nakain mo?” which I don’t think has a proper translation in English. (The closest I can think of is “What’s up with you?” but in the tone that meant, “What the hell were you thinking?!”)

Anyway, what my friends were referring to was my sudden decision to enroll in a gym. Okay, don’t laugh. Yeah, yeah, it was a sperm of the moment decision, as I like to say. But bear with me as I try to entertain you with tortuous details of this life-changing moment.

When I went to the mall near my home, I had all the intention of purchasing a spare cell phone to replace my battered one, which has missing keys, and already unreplaceable as it is a Siemens phone. (An aside: I don’t know why Siemens gave up on the Philippines. Its cell phones were, quite honestly, pretty good workhorses, easy to operate, with designs that were actually ahead of their time. Very stylish. The company just lacked the right marketing strategy to sell its units to keep up with the competition. So Siemens has pulled out its service centers from the malls and now I can’t replace the keys on my S57. I am told that I will have to go all the way to Siemens’ head office in Mandaluyong or thereabouts just to have my phone repaired. Tama ba ’yon?)

Not finding the cell phone I had saved up for, and still having enough time on my hands before the hordes of people swarmed the building, I checked out the health and fitness floor of the mall. First, I went to a popular medical clinic to find out what its membership fees were, because I was due for an executive checkup; then, somehow, my pretty feet just brought me next door to the fitness center.

I’ve been to that gym before with Mrs. M, as she was a member, and I was aghast that there were so many people working out almost side by side. It was like walking around the mall on a weekend in the afternoon, and all you do is bump into other people. Which I absolutely detest.

But I was just curious, and inquired how much I would have to pay to be a member of this popular fitness center. Having gone freelance as a writer, I no longer have an excuse not to exercise. My days are flexible enough to have a fitness schedule and if I was serious enough, I could plan the rest of my activities around my gym time. I’m not really exercise-phobic. In fact, I loved doing yoga, and attended classes fairly regularly to strengthen my back which had given me problems in the past. But when I moved to Quezon City, I couldn’t find an instructor in my area that would teach in the afternoons, a schedule which I had become accustomed to, being a late riser.

Anyway, I was surprised at the rate that was offered to me to enroll in that gym, which cost just a tad over the amount of the cell phone I had been angling to purchase. The monthly dues are somewhat expensive but I was told I would be able to use any of the gym’s branches nationwide and even internationally. I was also told that from about 10 am to 4 pm, the gym would be virtually empty since everyone is supposed to be at work. So that solves my claustrophobia. Well, as you may have already concluded, I got sold on the idea, turned over my credit card for swiping, and committed myself to a year’s worth of fitness.

I would like to say that I enrolled in the gym mainly out of concern for my health. True, I’ve been feeling the tightness in my jeans’ waistband the last couple of weeks, and find myself out of breath sometimes when I walk short distances. My family has a history of hypertension and diabetes and I am probably at risk of inheriting these, so it’s as good a time as any to get back to exercising. Coupled with this is my being a foodie. I love to eat. And I know going to the gym would allow me to keep my weight down even as I continue to indulge my, ahem, healthy appetite.

Then again, as my Mader F surmised, there was a deeper reason for my going to the gym. Or maybe, a shallower one. It had to be a man. Guilty! Let’s just say, one night I suddenly realized I was absolutely attracted to him and, quite strangely, wanted to drown myself in his steady gaze. Ick! Ma-drama na ba?

Going to the gym is probably admitting to myself that I feel powerless under his sway and just want to look my absolutely fabulous best the moment I give up control. So there’s my fitness motivation, and maybe it’s wrong, but what the heck! It got me back to the gym, so it’s as good a reason as any. The women libbers out there can throw all their rotten tomatoes at me but I don’t care. I’m just a grrrl, noh?

Anyway, I hauled this tired but sexy body of mine to the gym for the first time in decades and found the experience quite exhilarating! Not wanting to unduly exert myself, I attended the yoga class for starters. After more than a year of not having any regular yoga practice, naturally I felt stiff all over. I couldn’t hold some of the asanas (poses) as easily as I did before, although I still remembered how to breathe correctly, so I didn’t end up panting and wheezing like the rest of my classmates. Mo-ching, my teacher at Mandala Spa, would have been proud as well of my downward facing dog. And toward the end of the class, I still managed to do my shoulder stand and easily dropped my legs at the back of my head while the upper portion of my body lay supine on the yoga mat. Aba, flexible pa din ang lola n’yo!

But, man, how I sweated buckets! For those who think yoga is easy and just for wimps, you have it all wrong. The asanas are very difficult, especially if you’re just starting out. Despite an air-conditioned room, you will perspire, and your muscles will feel like they’re being torn apart. Talk about feeling the burn. But unlike sports or other fitness exercises, there is no competition with others, only with yourself. You challenge yourself to perfect the pose at each practice, and with every effort, your mind is conditioned to focus on your breathing, your practice and your space.

After the class ended, I felt rejuvenated. I really missed my regular yoga practice. It was what my body and mind had been craving for all this time. Sure, my muscles are aching all over right now, but I look forward to going back to the gym again and perhaps trying out the fitness machines next time.

I’m not going to give out any lengthy sermons on the importance of health, the proper diet and exercise. Or how our relationship to our body should be sacred and should be of utmost priority. I’m pretty sure you will find your own motivation to exercise soon enough. And if it’s a man who gets you running to the gym, then embrace it. Perhaps soon, he might just be embracing you.

(My column, Something Like Life, appears every Friday in the Lifestyle section of the BusinessMirror. Photo from Maconstate University web site.)

Men you should avoid

Something Like Life
May 4, 2007

ONCE in a while, in our endless quest for true love, we women come across chumps who, for some strange reason, perhaps by fate or due to our temporary insanity, we seem to have fallen in love with.

In our heads, we all know that he is wrong for us—maybe he talks too loud on his cell phone in public, he’s an arrogant SOB who feels he is God’s gift to humanity, can’t spell properly, or just has bad breath – and yet we still stick by him, defending him even to our friends and family, because we love him. (Or do we?)

I can’t stress this enough. We women are gifted with a rare ability to sense the unseen, what lies beneath the surface of people and events, and we should do well to trust our instincts. It’ll save us a lot of heartaches in the end.

From the many experiences of my girlfriends and gayfriends, here are some of the examples of men we women should steer clear of:

The overly jealous/paranoid guy

IT’S nice to see a boyfriend sometimes get all pinched and bothered when he sees you talking to other men or just laughing with them. Or perhaps he plays hurt after you have just gushed over a half-naked George Clooney in Vanity Fair. This is all cute and makes you want to kiss your boyfriend some more.

When he starts getting gruff, crazy mad (c’mon girls, you know the difference between a man whose ego has just been a bit slighted from someone about to run amuck), starts shouting and threatens you bodily harm, then this isn’t just a simple case of jealousy.

A girl I knew once had a boyfriend who would tail her wherever she would go, even if she was just having coffee with us, to make sure she wasn’t seeing any other man. This, my dear girls, is classic cuckoo behavior. Your boyfriend belongs in a loony bin!

Mama’s boy

DOES your boyfriend still live with his mother? It’s fine when both of you are still 16, or even 25. But if he’s reached 30 and he’s still tied to his mom’s apron strings, beware! He will likely want you, his girlfriend, to treat him the same way his mama does.

The Mama’s Boy is a man who can’t say a single sentence without mentioning his dear mom, cannot refer to any important or exciting experience unless it involves her, and will probably compare everything you make in the kitchen to his mother’s cooking! Ouch!

In a woman, the Mama’s Boy is only after one thing, the same creature comforts provided by his dear mother…so expect to take care of your boyfriend’s every need, just as his mother does. Honey, if you’re not ready to take care of a child, stay away from men like this. Besides, you will never ever be more than his mother could ever be to him.

The metrosexual (kuno)

I DON’T care what all the magazine articles say, metrosexuals are not! real men. I think “metrosexual” is just another brand thought up by marketing geniuses who need to move more men’s clothes, vanity products and accessories.

Metrosexuals are just homosexuals who haven’t come out of the closet yet and who need an excuse not to be branded as gay, even as they indulge in their favorite flowers, monthly spa treatments, cry at romantic movies, etc. Men are either gay or straight. There is no in between. (Yes, even if your best gayfriend insists that the guy he is seeing is straight. Sweetie, if a man is screwing around with a homosexual, he ain’t straight, he’s gay! Hello!)

Sure, we want a man who takes care of himself, is well-groomed, smells good, is sensitive to your needs, and is always presentable to your family and friends. But, c’mon, if he goes to the salon more often than you to get his roots treated or get a facial, there is obviously something amiss. Girl s’ya, anoh?!

The serial philanderer

IF he’s cheating on you while you’re still dating, it is more likely than not that he will still be the same when you’re married to each other.

Men don’t change. Not overnight, not for any woman. (Good luck, Pia Guanio!) I would want to give you a deep psychological evaluation on why men cheat on their girlfriends or wives. I’d even like to say that your man won’t cheat if he loves you very much. But you know that things aren’t as simple as that. They will cheat, if given the opportunity, and they know they can get away with it. (I’m not being unfair to men...yes, I must acknowledge that women do cheat as well.)

But if you’ve caught him with other women, not just once or twice, but three times and more, then perhaps it’s time for you to stop making excuses for him. It’s not true that it’s the woman who is the last to know. The signs are there. Sometimes we just refuse to acknowledge them. If he doesn’t have room in his life for just you, then sweep him out of yours.

A man and his ex-

A MAN who can’t stop talking about his ex- is obviously still hung up about her. Sometimes it will happen during the most innocent of conversations, or situations. The topic about his ex-girlfriend will suddenly crop up. You want to be polite and be a good listener, but be true to yourself. It’s annoying!

Maybe he doesn’t talk about her. But he still has her stuff all over his place. Or in my case, he gave me a bracelet his ex-girlfriend made—as a Christmas gift. (Aside from her regular job, she makes fashion accessories on the side.) She and “my guy” were together for the longest time, but after she called it quits, did he still have to support her business? Well, I wasn’t about to be the girlfriend for the man on the rebound, so I was out of the scene as fast as my red high heels could take me.

The man who is still wrapped up in memories of his ex needs some time alone. He has to have time to digest his feelings, mourn, get mad, accept the situation, before he can truly say he’s over her. If he’s still in any of those stages before the actual recovery, you’re just setting yourself up for a really painful ending.

Sure, there may be exceptions to the rule. Like if the mom of your mama’s boy thinks the world of you. Or if the overly jealous guy does actually have a good reason to be so, you flirt. (Then it’s you who has to change, not him.) But other than those exceptions, there is every reason in the world for you to stay away from the aforementioned types of men. It will save you a lot of heartaches and perhaps your sanity.

Let’s just be friends na lang, okay?

(My column, Something Like Life, is published every Friday in the Life section of the BusinessMirror. Photo from BusinessMirror)