Whenever I see a girl cling to his boyfriend unashamedly in public, I smile. Sometimes, I actually say a little prayer for them wishing that all couples are like them. But those moments that I feel heavenly come far and scarce. There are more occasions now that the sight actually amuses me no end, sometimes even to the point where I wish that a toilet bowl suddenly falls from heaven so I can puke unashamedly to my heart's content and everyone gets thrown out of the room.
One of them happened earlier. The couple who sat beside me in the bar were just like all the other couples in the room -- young, employed, playful. If you look closer, however, you will witness that there's something awfully off. I started to play the eliminations game and tried to get rid off everything repulsive and hideous. That's when it became clear. I don't know if all girlfriends are like that, but she was so abnormally clingy to the boyfriend you'd mistake her for one of those vines you see in abandoned gardens trying so much to hold on to whatever it can otherwise it gets obliterated. From the face of the earth.
So while I was nursing my Diet Pepsi, I would smirk on and off while making sense of the clueless couple. I thought, if all couples in dear old Manila are like them, we'll probably embarrass Paris so much that they will meekly relinquish their title to us as the Romance Capital of the World. Or worse, we will hold the unnerving title as the Contortionists Capital of the World with women (mostly!) who have developed this extraordinary talent of disfiguring their forearms and fingers if only to flaunt they are not single (like everyone else I know) or to declare that they are beautiful and attractive since they now have men who appreciate their gift of cling-ing and contort-ing.
I hate myself, I should have asked if the guy was visually-impaired. That would have shut me up.
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