girls’ night out


THE ABOVE ad is 99% tongue-in-cheek, but it rings with a bit of truth.  Men like me are effectively handicapped and disadvantaged without our better halves, not because we are inherently useless and disabled, but because their efficiency and dexterity dooms us to a life of dependence and vestigial extremities (when it comes to cooking), not that we mind a lot.

I already had two left hands save for boiling water and boiling eggs before Mahal arrived in NZ, but it got worse because every time I tried to help her in the kitchen, she just rolled her eyes and said magsaing /maghugas ka na lang ng pinggan Mahal.  That’s how awful I was.

So Saturday evening when she went on those very rare girls’night out, I was left with an embarrassment of riches : leftover sinigang, leftover tocino, leftover crab-flavored empanada-like pastries, day-old KFC, actually anything else I might like, as she asked me well in advance what I might want for dinner.

Her dabarkads parried my iuwi nyo sya nang maaga (come home early) with bukas nang maaga namin sya iuuwe (OK, early tomorrow morning) 😦 I took this half-seriously, as they were going to seriously celebrate a much-deserved furlough from their kids (every one of Mahal’s posse has at least a kid; one has three.)

I had so much to do, I didn’t know where to start.  Finish A Game of Thrones so I could start with A Clash of Kings; rearrange my Batman action figure collection; run around the block where we just moved in to check out the sights; take a nap so as to catch the NBA rerun on the Maori channel, the list didn’t end.

***               ***              ***               ***               ***

Before the last minute of the first hour past Mahal’s departure time, I already missed her.  We hardly shared any quiet time anymore, especially the last month.  Combine me switching to a new department, our moving house, and erratic work skeds, and although we share a roof, a bed and soap/shampoo, I saw and heard next to nothing, nothing that was worth seeing and hearing, from esposa hermosa.  She prepared my baon, did the laundry, woke me up and lullabied me to sleep, but we hadn’t exchanged innermost thoughts or fondest dreams lately.

The sad part was I didn’t realize this till I was totally alone, staring at a bland CSI show and listening to white noise for the last 30 minutes.  You can be alone without being lonely, but try telling that to newly divorced spouses, widowers and househusbands who haven’t seen their wives for some time.  Just the sound of her voice, her puttering around, and her constant attention to you makes it all worthwhile.

She promised she’d be home midnight, but she deserves a little more down time with her girls.  No one knows it better than Your Loyal Blogger.

Have a good time Mahal.  And come home tired, but happy.

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