Am I Losing My Touch?

Insignificantly Insidious Insights With age comes wisdom... and laugh lines. Screw it.
By Roy Macalma

Last month, I have been on an overdrive, working so hard on a promotion, getting dates for a potential partnership, and learning to regularize my gym habits. Well, the least thing that I would expect was that someone would care to notice my least updated profile in Friendster. Yeah, I am not a friendster fan, and honestly I don't care if ever someone sends me a message, or adds me up. Since ghetto teens invaded it for their gang recruits and flooded it with their wrong grammar, I stopped caring anymore.

One day, curiosity got the better me and I decided to check my profile there. Aside from the dozens of invites, I saw more than a dozen messages, some spams, except for one mail from someone named Superdoper (I assumed he was a druglord or an athlete taking performance-enhancing drugs). He was asking to be my text mate.

Hmm, being an ardent promoter of MWO's campaign "Beauty with a Purpose", I gave him my number, and true enough, he texted immediately. At least he had a name, and it's Mark (later on I would learn it really is Daniel, stupid me.)

Mark and I got off to a good start. He seemed nice and he really put his best foot forward. Everything my exes failed to do to me, in terms of being sweet, he did. He played badminton with my friends, bought me sweet treats, and made an effort to make friends with everyone. We became officially an item after two weeks of dating.

However, everything that appeared to be very perfect was rotting at the center. We looked like a Stepford gay couple, with me acting oh-so-graciously, but then what people didn't know was that we had a nonexistent sex life. That is almost like a  death sentence to me. Sex is great especially when you're doing it with a person you love, and giving him the best pleasure I possibly can completes me; and not being able to do that is insulting to me.

He said he had experience and all, but I just didn't understand why it took him so much effort to do it with me. I was reminded by one of the scenes in Gossip Girl, where Blair blurted out to her duke boyfriend: "Stop treating me like a delicate flower!".

One time when we were having one of our serious talks, he asked if something's bothering me. I got honest and told him about the sex situation. He just laughed it off and told me that he wouldn't want to see me just to do it. He accused me of just keeping him just to have sex (as if we had already done anything!). After that serious talk, everything suddenly waned. He skipped our badminton games only for me to learn that he was just chatting in a netcafe (talk about getting the replacement when you haven't even thrown out the old one, which is obviously in very good working condition). Surprisingly, my mind was telling me to keep him, even if my heart was telling me to end it all.

Right now, I am just waiting for the bad fruit to fall. I am just waiting for him to break it off. I seriously asked myself if I am losing the touch, or if I am just envious of my friends' very healthy sexual relationships with their boyfriends.

NO. I know I am not.

I am still the same romantically hopeful person that I am.

You know I've been searching for THE ONE. It's not him. He's just another learning experience. I need to resume my journey to find HIM.

Ding dong!

(Voice over) We are now serving Customer # 145.

Ding dong!

Writing as Kiddo, Roy Macalma shares his take on the incessant search for the right one. He may be reached at kiddolovesit@yahoo.com.