Friends?

“Be VERY careful about having friends of the opposite sex. If you have a “friend” that you tell things to that you don’t tell your spouse, then you are creating a toxic situation. Affairs don’t start in the bedroom; they start with conversations, emails, texts and communication that lead down a dangerous path. Protect your Marriage!” ~ Dave Willis, iVow: Secrets to a Stronger Marriage

Day 360.

I got blocked today on Instagram by a male follower with whom I shared a friendly and platonic relationship. We have followed each other on Instagram for over six years. We had never met in person, and rarely communicated outside of Instagram direct messages. Over the summer, he reached out to me through text message, and we exchanged messages through the summer and the early part of this year.

We were starting to develop a real friendship, or so I thought. He lives in Texas and because I knew that Texas experienced some rough times, I had reached out to him to make sure he was faring well through their ordeal. In turn, he messaged me quite frequently to wish me a good day or to just check up on me.

Last week on Instagram he posted a video of his trip to Hawaii with a female companion, presumably his girlfriend. I was happy to see that he had finally taken a vacation and even happier that he was with someone who made him smile the way he was smiling in his video and photos. I gave a thumbs up on his posts, and he sent me a message with the thumbs up emoji.

Today I noticed he blocked me. I am not mad or hurt, but I am a bit shocked. I had never approached him in any sort of inappropriate way – if anything, he was the one who tried on several occasions to cross over from the friend zone. I never bit on his baits, though, and had always kept it platonic. I also never gave him any mixed signals and made it absolutely clear that I thought of him purely on a friend basis. I have my own theories about why he chose to block me, but in any case, I am fine with his choice. I am notorious for cutting off people at the first red flag I see, so who am I to judge when it is done to me?

But this begs the million dollar question: Can a man and a woman truly be friends?

I am interested to hear others’ thoughts.

Night Drives

“I hadn’t realized that music could unlock things in you, could transport you to somewhere even the composer hadn’t predicted. It left an imprint in the air around you, as if you carried its remnants with you when you went.” ~ Jojo Moyes, Me Before You

Day 356. Last Night was Friday night. The girls and I drove around the city and ended up on the Lower East Side. We parked the car and walked out in the blistering cold in search of a place to eat. With the restaurant gathering capacity still limited to thirty-five percent, we settled on dining inside a bubble at this place called Route 66.

Photo credit: Route 66

The inside of the bubble was warmer, but by no means warm enough to take off your coat. It’s uncomfortable to eat in such conditions, but even more uncomfortable to just sit there idle, so I ordered a cocktail and some french fries. Not exactly healthy, but hey, you only live once.

After dinner, we got back into the car and drove around the city some more. I swear to God, New York is so bloody beautiful. We turned up the music in the car and with the lights of the city shining around us, it almost felt like we were in a nightclub.

Song: Breaking Me, Topic & A7S

Excuse the smudges on the windows.

Intangible Success

“I have learned that success is to be measured not so much by the position that one has reached in life as by the obstacles which he has overcome while trying to succeed.” ~ Booker T. Washington, Up From Slavery: An Autobiography

Day 354.

I got a promotion at work this week. It is long overdue, so I am not even excited about it anymore. I am thankful about it though. So many people are out of work and are anxiously waiting for the next stimulus check in order to make ends meet, while I am here flourishing in my career. It does not seem fair somehow, but then again, I worked damn hard to be where I am in life, and so I do not apologize for my good fortune, but as always, I am, and remain, grateful that I have achieved some successes in life.

My brother, on the other hand, has not been as fortunate of late as I have been. Troubled by his increasingly turbulent marriage and failing business due to the pandemic, my brother retreated back to the Philippines to reset his life. My parents, ever judgmental, have not been very supportive of his decision to return home, albeit temporarily, and have been bombarding him with questions and accusations, and in short, have called him a failure.

Harsh. But that’s how they have always been – tiger parents that have instilled in the minds of their children that if you are not successful (translation: rich), then you are a failure. Or simply: a loser.

But, really, what is success? A good job? A good marriage? To be able to afford a big house and a fancy car? Why can’t success be something intangible, like achieving peace in one’s heart? Why can’t one be considered successful if they are able to satiate the hunger for freedom in their soul, or dull the ache in their core to feel the fullness of life, instead of the emptiness in their heart?

In theory, my parents consider me successful. I have a good job and a lovely daughter. My brother has a failing marriage and a failing business, and his biggest crime: he has no children.

But in reality, my brother is more successful. No matter what obstacles he has ever faced in life, he has always kept a positive outlook and is genuinely happy. I, on the other hand, despite outward appearances, am prone to depression and disparaging thoughts. I am empty inside while my brother’s soul is rich. To me, that is real success.

4 Markers

“We always think there’s enough time to do things with other people. Time to say things to them. And then something happens and then we stand there holding on to words like ‘if’.” ~ Fredrik Backman, A Man Called Ove

Day 353. Yesterday, LilG turned fourteen.

Like all parents say when they realize their baby is no longer a baby, I say it now as well: “I cannot believe it.”

For me, there are four distinctive markers of passing time:

Watching my baby girl transform into a young woman.

The name LilG does not apply anymore. She is much taller than I am. She surpassed me when she was twelve. Her transformation, of course, is not just physical. She is more thoughtful now than she was, no longer having the typical selfish, youthful whims. She has become a planner and thinks about the future. The biggest sign of her transition from being a child and into the stages of young adulthood is her acknowledgement that all [of her] actions have consequences, good or bad, and she has to act in the manner appropriate to bring about the desired outcome.

Seeing my parents growing older.

My father will turn eighty-three this year, and my mother will turn seventy-nine. Thankfully, they are both in really great health, mentally and physically, and aside from the normal limitations of their age, they are still active in body and sharp in mind. However, because they live on the other side of the world and because I have not seen them in nearly two years due to the pandemic, it is still a bit jarring to see their faces on video chat and to realize that how I have them pictured in my mind and in my memories, is not how they actually are in reality. At the risk of sounding morbid, they are both at an age where one starts to wonder how much [good] time they really have left.

Experiencing the natural decaying process of my own aging body.

Over the years, I have come to accept that my body no longer functions the way that it did when I was in my twenties. If I am being honest, I will say that it does not even function the way it did when I was in my thirties, or even early forties. Every year that passes by, I lose half a step, and another joint cracks or is in pain.

Realizing that many people who I love are no longer here on Earth.

This one hits the hardest. My beloved sister passed away twenty-one years ago this month. Twenty-one years. She will have been gone longer than she was alive. I have lost other people in my life, important people to me, whose absences still create a hole in my soul. When I think of them and how long they have been gone, the reality of time cuts even deeper.