DROOL BABY, DROOL

I have come to know Ahmad as an all-the-rage hottie way back in college with this ultra sizzling magnetic field drawing co-hottie creatures (I didn’t specify the gender and you’ll most probably know why) in practically ever place he hops in. And I must say things haven’t changed until now. Having a rockstah, Palestinian delight god for a hubby, I admit, is quite a boost to my diminutive self-worth. But oooh boy, does it throw me a handful of trouble as well!

I know for a fact that I’m way far out from splendor and gorgeousness. I even doubt it if there’s any sign of beauty in my long, pimple-friendly face (quoted from my friendstah, “about me” blah-blah). And it’s not “Ooooh…” that I hear in my account most of the time, it’s actually “eeeow” and “Oh” (flatly said). But the hell should I care, right? It’s WHO I AM my husband fell in love with (as cliché as it sounds…), not how I look, right? And it’s as if I care. But that was like, the typical Djai reaction 2 years ago…heedless (With my famous let-them-drool yawn). Now, thanks to my bootylicious spousy and his flock of never-ending haughty admirers, I gained too much self consciousness, it actually drowns me!

I was ecstatic as he was when he landed a job as a guidance counselor in a private school in the city but what I didn’t know was, I would earn elementary graders and boy-crazy teenyboppers as rivals. Come to think of it, it’s hahaha-funny but it’s becoming slightly annoying with crazy midgets smirking at my direction with I-can’t-believe-she’s-his-wife glances. I can hear some “get a grip! How could you pay attention to them?” comments on this and I know how silly and childish I sound with me screaming in protest over such little nuisances. But with that happening to me almost every time I go out with my hubby or visit him on his office? It’s definitely no pleasantville for me. And take into account those soon-would-be-college-slut high schoolers whose hearts go boom boom at the sight of their hot pants counselor…their insolent sneers while gawking at me intently are somehow undressing. (Y’all better than me, huh??! Haha! Bitter-bitter-an daw o!) I guess they’re just one of the many upshots of being hooked up with a striking, “suplado” guy who causes a lot of gushing and sighing.

And dig this, every time their band has gigs or band competitions or guestings, I feel the eyebrow-raised feedback at my direction almost blurting out, “yikes, is that his wife?” or “Good heavens, can’t he do better than that?” Like, shut up! Who do they think they are?! So to give them a soft kick on their heads, what I usually do during grave situations as this is, I’d wrap my arms around Ahmad and stay as sweet as a candy flanked at his side with all the fancy act I can pull off. Uh-huh, that’s right, eat your hearts out people!

I don’t know if it’s me to blame for getting involved with a good looking, sought-after piece of ass and not expecting this kind of consequence. Maybe I wouldn’t be laying out drastic reactions as these if I happen to choose and marry an ordinary looking guy with a good heart as Ahmad’s. Somehow, Niki’s mom was right…”sakit ng ulo ang mga gwapo”…hmmm….But come to think of it again, it’s a relief it’s not a womanizing issue I’m fussing about right now. I trust him so much that I wouldn’t even care if a swarming herd of screen idol, Goddess-looking high schoolers forms a circle around him or sits on his lap. I may not know though how far his mental undressing gets but I’m still grateful it’s just a matter of mind power. Besides, I don’t think he has enough guts to leave me and Dylan for someone whose aesthetic icon is Britney Spears. I’ll give him the laugh! Not that I’m too confident though but you see, he’s too idealistic with regards to family stuff and wife-to-husband-to-wife relationship that he cannot afford to waste what we have right now.

And without chaining myself to a heartthrob, I wouldn’t have a pretty Dylan either, right? I can’t manage to get her as good looking as she is now with my sole strand of DNAs. Even my relatives can attest to my not-so-giftedness. You should see the looks on their faces during family reunions, like, “yan? Pumatol yan sa’yo? Come on!!” And the same scenario happens when we parade ourselves on malls, school events, concerts, shows, etc…

There may be times that I do not quite come to terms with the fact that I married a downright “gwapo” and popular guy but in some teensy weensy ways, it serves me right. I just have to look at the brighter side of it. And make use of it: by rubbing off Ahmad’s charm and fame on me.

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