The bright side of not having a work, as of press time, is having the TIME. Not having the time of my life per se, but having more than enough time to think about things that matter, or in this case, does not matter.
So you’ve watched the Stepford Wives, that Nicole Kidman movie that makes all women in the neighborhood be like Martha Stewart, on steroids. But wait, there’s more. She’s also pretty, all smiles, never whining, and follows every single command her husband tells her to do, which makes her the perfect wife. Still not getting it? Okay, think about Barbie-Martha-Stewart-and-the-best-nanny-in-the-world all rolled into one. Every guys’ fantasy, so it seems.
This is a looong post, but if you have the time, keep on reading til the last word.
So I’ve been thinking, what if all of this was true? What if there really is that one tiny magic microchip that could make you your own Stepford wife? I mean, I was thinking, if I were to make my own Stepford husband, or boyfriend, for that matter, I would re-modify that damn chip according to my preferences, and here’s the outcome.
HE DOES NOT NEED TO BE GORGEOUS. Okay, just a bit. And he needs to be presentable. Enough that my parents and my siblings can’t say a single ‘lait’ to him anymore than I can take. Yeah. We are that family. They’d say mga laitero’t laitera. But I’d say, brave people who can be truly honest to themselves, and to the people around them, but always get mistaken as brutally frank people.
HE SHOULD NOT LIKE HIPHOP. Everything about it. Or he could, just as long as he puts it in a tiny compartment inside his brain, lock the key and throw it away forever. And yes, future boyfriend, I am doing you a very big favor.
HE SHOULD LIKE READING, WATCHING MOVIES AND TV AND LISTENING TO MUSIC. So we’d have something to talk about. You could tell me which book is a good read, which TV show you hate and which band you really like. Likewise, I could tell you what I think about this and that character or I could tell you about my love for writing without boring you to death, and you could boost my morale. I could watch movies with you and you could introduce me to new bands, or we could go to concerts of artists that we both like. In short, he should be a couch potato, like me. So we could cuddle while doing all of the above-mentioned things.
HE SHOULD HAVE A SPORT. So I could wear an “i-heart-(insert name here)” tee and cheer you on.
HE SHOULD BE MY WORST CRITIC, AND MY NUMBER ONE FAN. Hey, I don’t like it when you always compliment me. That’s my mom’s job. It’ll just go inside my head and I’d look like an oversized Tweety Bird. Besides, if you keep on doing that, I might end up not looking for improvement and just be there, not moving forward. You could tell me if my makeup’s too much, or if my breath stinks, or if I have grammar lapses or if I’m overreacting, or if I’m being too mean to people. Tell me if my saying ‘ulol’ is bothering you because it’s not lady-like, or if my cooking’s bad, just say it they way I would critic you. But tell me too if I’m doing a good job, or if you really like my adobo, or if my new dress looks good on me. It wouldn’t hurt you to worship me once in a while.
HE SHOULD BE A GOOD LISTENER AND A KEEN OBSERVER. Because, if he is, he remembers the tiniest of details. Like how I get an upset stomach if I drink tap water, or how I hate banana ketchup and loves tomato ketchup.
HE SHOULD HAVE A MIND OF HIS OWN. Oh-kay. So I’m negating the whole Stepford boyfriend point, but I still think he should have a mind of his own. He should have principles and priorities. Dreams. and goals. And he knows the path to take, or at least has the map and compass to get there. Or even just a teensy bit idea, and work from there. And of course, he also dreams of going there, with me.
HE SHOULD BE SPONTANEOUS AND CRAZY. People think or have an idea that I am walking on a straight line. So yeah, you can make me do crazy little stuff, the spontaneous things. Make my straight go curvy as I make my journey.
HE SHOULD NEVER PULL AN EDWARD-CULLEN-STUNT ON ME. You know, leaving without a warning, leaving while I’m so high. That’s just plain mean. Yes, never leave me. But since, dear, I’m stupid enough to let you have a mind of your own, when that time ever comes up, yes, you can pull the edward-stunt, and do it the way he did it. Be man enough to do it. You should have the balls and go look me in the eye and tell me it’s over.
HE SHOULD HAVE PATIENCE. After all, it is a virtue. And I mean, patience, with me. Like he could put up with all my mood swings: talking to you, not talking to you because, I am moody. Having the patience to help me when I’m shopping for the perfect dress, or shoes; the patience to go with all the chick flicks I so wanted to watch; the patience for my being a perennial latecomer; the patience with my constant ranting and unconscious repeating of stories that I like or I don’t; and the patience with my meanness, because, baby, I am mean, and I am bound to say lots of it when I’m with you. And yeah, make me stop.
HE SHOULD HAVE, EVEN A SINGLE ROMANTIC BONE IN HIS BODY. Or even just a tiny romantic nerve ending, just to put up with my mushyness, and I’ll make up for the entire bone for you, because I have lots of that.
And above all, HE SHOULD LOVE MY FAMILY AND MY FRIENDS. Because they mean the world to me. A few dates with them wouldn’t hurt. And if he does really love me, he’d love them, or even like them or just plain understand why I keep them in my life.
Oh, and before I forgot, HIS HEART HAS A MIND OF ITS OWN. I don’t have an explanation why, but I really do want this. In fact, I hope every single person in this world have this last one.
Ha-ha. Snapping back to reality, these are my words for me: “YOU WISH!” I don’t even know how to put this and that when it comes to technology,let alone re-modify a microchip! Heck, I don’t even know how to make my personal Multiply lay out. Ha ha ha. But hey, this is just me being imaginative, romantic, and downright demanding. I’m having delusions of grandeur if you may add. Two words again. GOOD LUCK!
So if you were to re-modify the good ol’ Stepford chip, what would yours be?
P.S. My microchip has a name already: “KEN”. An my patent would have to be Alex Band. Or Wentworth Miller. Or Chace Crawford. Hell, I want them all. And they’d be my ARMY.
I’ve found a new home, that’s why I stopped updating the site.I just thought it’s a waste of time and cyberspace to be reposting posts over and over. :)) Follow me if you can. Everything’s ‘for everyone’.