Sunday, August 12, 2012


Dear Cebu,

You're weird and you're interesting. You remind me of the women who I fall hard for. More often than not, they're not stunners, at least not at first glance. They'd have their share of obvious imperfections covering up or downplaying qualities that, over time, delightfully surprise me.

I don't profess much love for you--generally. You're a tourist trap. There are way too many people enjoying your nightlife for my taste. There's far too much noise in your nightspots, and far too much heat in the afternoons.  As liberal as I am, I get eerily upset at seeing the seemingly large number of our native girls adorning the arms of white dudes who seem to be as old as their fathers. Granted, my complaints are self-serving. I haven't completely outgrown the desire to be that old dude (sans the whiteness) waking up to the sight of the (legal-aged, preferably vision-impaired) waif  who regularly warms his bed, as love also blossoms in a marriage defined by need and expedience-- her body and his potential heirs for a roof over her head, and strong arms to keep out the cold.  

But there's something about you that I can't place, something that keeps me looking in your direction and admiring how your hair falls over your bare shoulder, the coyness of your smile-- and its promise of the best kinds of sensuality for the man who unlocks your heart. But you're also high maintenance--or at least you seem to be-- and I have a problem with high maintenance women.

For now, you've been a welcome respite from the impotence that has characterized my work these past two months. You've also allowed me and my mother to come to a proper compromise. You've also provided me with potential business, and with another place to run to, should my traditional refuges break from the strain of so much forced  modernity (yes, you have your blight of call centers, but here, no one knows me and I am free to reinvent myself with you should the need ever arise-- but will you let me, though?).

Yes, Cebu, for now, at least, I have my eye on you. 

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