Bone, Muscle and Oyo Boy Sotto

April 25, 2008

I met Marco the other day and I was happily suprised: he looks better. In fact, he looks dashing. He was wearing his favorite hoodie (which I hate so much since it looks like a piece of spotty vegetable. I have a picture of it somewhere zipped up to cover my head and I looked like okra. Anyway.), green cargo pants and his leather Converse sneakers. He looked nice even with the okra jacket so if I thought that he must really look special yesterday. I mean, I did not fall in love with him for aesthetic reasons, but when I saw him yesterday I thought that then was a good time.

 

Actually, Marco’s been frequently going to the gym for the past three weeks. He’s dedicated to it the way he’s dedicated to his music, job, gadgets, and me so you must understand that when I say he’s going to the gym frequently for the past three weeks, HE IS GOING TO THE GYM. I have mixed feelings about it. First of all, I am not attracted to thin, wimpy-looking guys. Second, I would hate to hug Marco and feel bone and muscle sticking out to me. The world would indeed be a screwed-up place if this ever comes to pass.

 

Well, right now it seems as if it will come to pass and while my heart is unnaturally heavy about it, I have no choice but to come to terms with the fact that my boyfriend will be bone and muscle in the next few months. He’s going to start to look better and girls would like him. I don’t want girls to like him. He’s going to look like Oyo Boy Sotto again (he looked like that bastard when he was in college). I just want him to stay like the huggable and comfortable-looking Marco that I met last year. 

 

Oh, but of course, whatever happens I’ll still be happy for him. I know that he needs to do this to feel better about himself and I admire him for it. Bone, muscle, Oyo Boy Sotto and all.