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Every Woman and Mr. Big

A Donald Trump who only looked better.

I remember that this was how Samantha referred to Mr. Big back in Season 1--before Carrie's neverending on-and-off relationship with him started.

Oh I love Mr. Big. His larger than life character in Sex and the City is actually one which I can so relate some historic boylettes to. I love him in spite of all the Carrie love affair drama because somehow I find myself in the same pair of shoes that Carrie was in. (Let it be MANOLOS. Please!)

Last night, a friend was so full of similes in her SMS - her beau and Mr. Big being the two subjects of comparison. Months ago, another girl friend was doing the same thing.

And so it hit me: I am not alone. Mr. Big is someone every woman share.

The character of Mr. Big was created as an embodiment of a cosmopolitan woman's dream bachelor. Tall, good-looking, successful and rich - don't we all have thought of ourselves ending up with someone who meets the criteria. (Well, unless you're into short, ugly and miserable.) Look at how they kept him as Mr. Big and never revealed what his real name is. It was for us to keep a connection with him. Yet, when his name was later revealed in the movie, this connection seems to have lost. Mr. Big became Mr. Preston who gives Carrie a happily ever after ending - something which we all just are not sure to have.

But Mr. Big is every woman's Mr. Big not because of his fantastical stature. Women of 20s and 30s all over can connect to him simply because he represents that one special man who's came in and gone out of our lives for reasons we never know. He's the guy who seems to have loved us - shown it in ways not known in the books we read as little girls - but had a hard time (if not never) verbally expressing it. Every woman knows that he feels something for them but for some vague, incomprehensible reason, he cannot commit.

Yes, we felt like an ultimate priestess in high heels and tutu-like skirts (imagine the classic Carrie Bradshaw look) when he did all those lovely things to us. But after his disappearing act, we feel so reduced to nothing but well, a hot potato.

So after so many nights of partying hard with our girl friends, going home wasted and drunkdialling Mr. Big (not to mention the number of Kleenex boxes we consumed, the packs of cigarettes we shamlessly smoked, the number of times we sang Carly Simon's Nobody Does It Better while lying down drunk on our bedroom floor and the moments that we secretly felt like Bridget Jones), we realize that it's time for you to move on.

We meet someone like Adan. We think he's not as big as Mr. Big but we realize that he's actually the one who's good for us. We're contented and everyone knows we're happy. Then all of a sudden, coming from what-sort-of-void there is in our little worlds, our Mr. Big makes a re-appearance.

How many times have women been haunted by their past? How many times have we moved on only to find ourselves faced with our past once again? So that if we have made 15 slow and painful steps away from the past, we find ourselves quickly sliding 20 steps back.

Imagine going through this for so many times. Good god. Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the rollercoaster ride of your dreams!

One unforgettable SATC episode was when Carrie told Mr. Big that he makes the worst timing whenever he comes back to her life. He reappears everytime Carrie is already happy and in a sense, ruins everything that she has worked hard for. (In this case, I think the void must've been our very own contentment... hmm?)

That Carrie moment struck a chord in me and I guess among countless other women too. It happened more than once, you know.

When Carrie finally made the big move to Paris with the older artiste, Aleksandr Petrovsky, I was happy for her but at the back of my head, I could not resist having my own what-ifs for her. Petrovky sounded like a Harlequin dream guy. He's the guy who seems to be the redeemer of fallen women.

It was a good thing that the movie ended with Mr. Big reappearing just when Carrie needed him the most. It was perfect timing for a perfect ending.

Now, won't you tell me who your Mr. Big is?


Author's Note: The article was revised from its originial write-up posted last year at one of her many, many blogs.

Passion

Who wouldn't feel passionate for this Cesar Gaupo creation?

I love Pinoy!

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I imagine myself wearing this with my hair pulled up and wearing a brilliant pair of diamond earrings.

Paranoia, Heroes and Unconditional Love

I had a hard time sleeping for two or three consecutive nights last week. In as much as I do not want to write something so personal here, I just can't. Until now I am been bothered by FOUR MAJOR CATASTROPHES that happened this MAY.

1. The RCBC Bank Robbery - This plus the succeeding news story two Fridays ago--the one about the policeman being gunned down together with his wife and one-year old grandson-- and another story about a businessman/lawyer who was shot to be robbed of his P1 million withdrawal from the bank, bothered me so much. How can human persons be so ruthless?

2. The Burma Cyclone - I got so sick upon looking at the pictures of the Burma cyclone casualties and the RCBC Bank Robbery shots which arrived a few minutes earlier. I. Just. Cannot. Fathom. It. All.

3. The Pangasinan Typhoon - This is relatively insignificant compared to the first two and the next one. But wouldn't anyone be afraid that if it happened in Pangasinan, what are the odds that it cannot happen in your area? (Okay, I'm not knowledgeable on meteorology, volcanology and whatnot but disasters may strike anywhere.)

4. The Sichuan Earthquake - Oh God. Receiving the Heroes slideshow just made me cry. It was a very positive way of presenting what was--and remains to be a disaster. It was so great, so full of heroism and love that I have totally put my paranoia on shelf.

I guess my paranoia has been around because of my emphatic nature. It's like you tell me about this hospital which re-uses syringes on babies and gloves for IEs (this is a true case) and then I go like "Kawawa naman yung mga mahihirap. Mahihirap na nga sila, lalo pang nilalamangan." Then I'll be thinking of ways to put the "bad person" in his place. The next thing you know, I have already made a smilar scenario happening to my daughter and other loved ones in my head that I'll start asking everyone in the house to take precautions. Yeah, it's insane!

I believe in goodness; that man is good by nature. However, it so frustrates me to see people killng and hurting each other mercilessly. I know it's a natural part of human existence that you hurt and get hurt. But this is beyond being human.

But I am now at ease after reading some of the few heroic stories I have read in the slideshow.

It is good to know that UNCONDITIONAL LOVE manifested itself to the world. God, indeed, has risen above the rubble.




I pray that these children will grow up inspired by their parents' unconditional love. I also pray for the souls of the Chinese people--both dead and alive, and for all of us who share in their loss.

My Baby Is Now A Bata

I find her amazing.

I guess it's just natural for first time mothers to be so fond of watching their self-created mini-mes transform into children with their own personalities.

What I am so fond of my two-year old daughter is that she is a self-starter. She has surprised me and the rest of the family with things like memorizing the grace before meals and the bedtime prayer. She's practicing good table manners, READ: she knows how to use the utensils, leaves very little mess on her placemat, knows how to set the table and wipe her mouth.

She also "studies" alone at her own desk. I bought her a chair and study table last weekend and it has become her throne. She colors, draws, writes and reads there.

Then over the week, she surprised us all by pooing on her potty independently (she learned too pee earlier) and having her imaginary friends "Nuna" and "Chap." Sometimes she'd even call them on my mom's cellphone.

Hay nako. So many things as in so many surprising things talaga. It's just so great that I get to watch her grow. She's like a miracle in progress and I so, sooo love her.

Why I Love Shoes... Over Men

Let me tell you why...

One womanly wisdom famously passed on from mothers to daughters is to never step on a man's pride. Ever.

To make it easy to remember, just think: Step on a man's pride and you'll get a heart ache. Step on a fab pair of stilettos and you feel like a queen.

So won't it be a smart decision to have a pair of shoes you can always step on rather than a man thou shalt never challenge?

Another reason why I prefer shoes over men is that you can bring them along with you everywhere--from shopping trips to a girl's night out, and they won't ever complain. Though your feet will, at least, at the end of the day, you know that you only need a foot therapy for sacrificing comfort over style.

Unlike with men, it's always okay to lend a pair of shoes to a girl friend. There will be no jealousy involved and in fact, the owner can always give sincere tips on how to get sexy with them.

Shoes are also low maintenance. Except for a few minor repairs (and bet, you wouldn't mind your shoes getting a quick fix wit Mr. Quickie), it's also okay to leave a shoe alone and untouched in the closet. You can always be certain it's never gonna wander off with another owner. Sigh.

And most of all, you can keep tens, hundreds or even thousands of trophy shoes and NEVER be labeled promiscuous. But keeping two men around will certainly encourage chismis.

So can you blame me if I'd rather spend a Friday night shoe-hunting?