That Other L Word

"By any chance you know how to counter some 'lovespell' some ho put on

me bro?" texted a friend a few days ago.

"Dude, you serious?" I replied back.

"Dead serious man."

And so after a few more exchanges and extra details, the most
intellectual thing I could reply to him was "Uh lemme get back to you
on that."

I must admit, what really what struck me most and caught me by
surprise with his confession is discovering that he actually had
feelings. Dang I didn't see that coming. All this time I thought he
was some kind of detached to all things mushy. See, a little profile
on the victim here; smart, confident, almost cocky and yet shy in
equal measure, and one who values logic and intelligent explanations
over anything that remotely resembles to any emotion. He's human and
all that but he isn't exactly that I'm-in-love kind of guy.

Now if only I were a shaman I would concoct things up from those
leaves and shit but then again I'm not. This writer is just gonna
write about it, make fun of his friend and just see what makes out of
this (which in my case is usually awesome)…

Exhibit A; Houston, We've Got A Problem

But first, let me put on that playlist to listen to while I'm writing this.

Ok.

Done.

Now, where were we? Right. And so I asked my friend again, "how did
this even happen?"

"Don't know man, it just sort of, just happened. I lost it."

I would assume he was referring to his head, but for some reason, I'm
thinking it's his dignity.

Over drinks he would claim he was never dumped per se (although I
would oppose to that). From how he puts it, he does the dumping all
the time. He flirts, girl enjoys. Off he goes to another. Period. It's
a win-win situation as he would call it. He gets his fix, the girl
gets hers too.

But what on earth could have happened that his perfect free love
status quo got shook by someone he calls Ho? And more importantly who
the fuck is this Ho? Is she pretty? Is she hot? Can she even keep up
with the intellects of the victim? And, the real question is, is she
really what my friend fondly claims her to be, a H-O?

Hmmm.

Exhibit B; There's Just Something about Mary

"What happened, really? And why is it such a problem?" I asked.

"Say dude, you've known this girl for some time now, and you know and
she knows there's this undeniable sexual tension between you two and
yet for some reason you've never hooked up, not even once, even when
you've got the chance and God knows how many chances you've passed up.
It just didn't happen because it's just always the wrong time. She's
always involved with someone and your hands are just busy on so many
things. And now she's gone. Gone gone… And every morning you get wood
and all you could think about is doing the nasty with her that would
make any pre-internet porn to shame. Isn't that torture? For all I
know she could have slipped some 'potion' on my drink or something
thus this. I have enslaved myself into having lustful thoughts and
what ungodly things I could do to her body."

Whoa. That's some kind of an honest exposition

"So what's the problem really? Is it because she's 'gone gone' or is
it because the wood you get every morning?"

"No. It's because I can't stop thinking of her."

Oh. My my.

The biggest downside of not having your squeeze beside you in the
morning is having to deal with the fact that there is no receptacle to
help you relieve that overwhelming emotion at a time when you needed
it the most. You wake up and there's no one there. Could it any be
more tragic?

Such tragedies have befallen on notable people before and no one
survives unscathed; Sisa losing her boys, Britney losing her head,
Firecrotch LiLo (intentionally) losing her panties. Before you know
it, you'll be going bonkers, attacking a car with an umbrella and
setting the world afire. Losing something isn't just healthy.

"From what I've heard Tanduay does offer instant remedy."

"You sure with that dude?"

"Hell yeah. I'm master shaman as hell."

Now that that day is fast approaching I beg you Lord rid us of this
plague that has infected the humanity as fast as you can say 'cum'.
Isn't this supposed to be a cue for a national issue we could talk
over lunch breaks like the state of Kris Aquino's vagina or PNOY's latest
foray on pressing concerns like finding him a first lady? Wait. Never
mind.

Good thing I'm only just playing Quit Playing Games (i know, shoot me now) for no other
reasons than 90's nostalgia and nothing else. Honest lie truth.
Really.

Wait. Where's the replay stop button again?