Bet I'm Not the Only One

I bet I'm not the only one who has ever felt the "anywhere but here" syndrome. These are the supposedly warm, elated and glad-to-be-here Kodak moments but instead it feels awkward and you wished that you stayed home but can't, so you wished that you smoked so you could excuse yourself. Alas, we all know too well how futile it is to hope that the earth will open up and swallow us whole.

I once attended a christening and expected it to be an intimate and family-only affair only to have the reality wash over me like a bucket of ice. There's no such thing as an intimate and family-only affair in the Filipino setting. RSVPs get botched up all the time here. But this is not THE part when I wished that I smoked. It's the part when I get introduced to the rest of the "family", with a small narrative of what I do for a living and my age and somebody would blurt out "When are you getting married?" (This is the part when I cut off the tip of a Cuban cigar, light it up, take a huge puff, and cock a rifle.)

Oh and the weddings! Those lovely gowns, flowers, the ambience so permeated with love. Then comes the part of the games. It's a chance to oggle and improve one's prospects. So off I go to the ladies' room and take my sweet time primping, retouching and gossiping to deliberately miss the games (I'm not that competitive). Since the wedded couple are deliriously high on their love, they have diligently come up with the list of all their single friends and handed it to the over-enthusiastic emcee, with the intent of finding a love match amongst their friends. Much to my chagrin, somebody ratted out where I was. And I could hear my name being called again and again. I summon up my courage and decided to get it over with. Improve my prospects, huh? So which is it going to be? The guy with the balding and shiny pate? The one who picked his nose at the buffet line? Or the one who's sputters saliva as he speaks? (Since this incident, I don't so weddings anymore, unless we're uber close.)

Such is the plight of a single thirty-something. You're expected to get a man, earn well and start having the 2.5 kids. Frankly, I think it's too much to have on my plate right now. But then again, nobody was born ready with life's instructional book.