How to get to third base at 18 years old

This is the most ancient most sacred text of all the other instructive texts in the whole world. If you are young, naive, reckless, a virgin and/or looking for a distraction from your repetitive exhausting life and wish to get to third base at the ripe age of 18, this is an instruction manual tailored just for you and your delicate needs. Just follow these easy simple steps:

Step 1 – choose a partner

Alas, the road starts off rough and you must select a mate right off the bat. Do not be afraid, the world is full and your dating pool ripe as a mango… for now. And so this might be the only chance of your life to get lei’d. This is all a matter of preference though and you can get with anyone you like (with their consent and no, passed out is not a yes). Also, if you are truly desperate for a bit of under-the-covers-infiltration, you may also get with the nearest living breathing willing person nearby. Your call.

Step 2 – try to flirt?

Get both of you in the mood. Get to know them and their kinks likes so you can spice it up a bit for steps 3 and 4. Also, get a drink with this selected mate. Get buzzed. With your sub zero confidence, you’re gonna need that extra push that extra oomph if you know what I mean.

Step 3 – plan it? make a deal?

Are you guys like exclusive fuckin? Is this a one time thing or are you going to be fuck buddies for life? You don’t really have to talk about it now though – where’s the fun in that? So just hop on that jeepney all the way to Stellar (or wherever suits your needs, Sogo, Queensland, his/her house, your house, whatever)

step 4 – make magic.. don’t try too hard tho?

Firsts are always the worst. Don’t worry. Don’t think too hard about it, especially when your head keeps getting rammed into the headboard or when his/her (or your) foliage is an untouched rain forest, don’t think about it. In the words of the mighty Shia Labeouf, JUST DO IT. Try and enjoy yourself even when it hurts. Literally.

Congratulations on getting to third base, you lucky young cougar cub! Now take these steps and wash, dry, and repeat. Go forth and conquer!

Disclaimer: These steps are not foolproof and results may vary and end badly.

Also, don’t take advice from a virgin.


I know you feel that you’re happiness lies solely with him. You know it’s wrong but you can’t help it. To you he’s that one star you single out in the night sky, shining brighter than the rest. And every night he’s the only star you see, the only star you wish to see. He’s the reason you love the night sky so much in the first place. 

But you see, dear girl, you are not his star. You’re just a small speck of the bright cluster in his sky. And you try and try to shine brighter than the others but your faint faint light never outshines the rest. Then you beat yourself up for it. You ask and ask why you aren’t good enough, why you’ll never be good enough. But, in truth, it was never your fault.

Some days he’s the soft light of the moon and some days he’s the scathing, biting burn of the hot sun. Too close and he sears your skin, leaving scars and burns only you could see. Other days both of you match like a warm cup of coffee and a good thick book on a sunny afternoon. Most days both of you are as at odds as oil and water, both looking like the same liquid state but never really the perfect mix. Those days are the worst, turbulent, emotionally exhausting days. You promise yourself that you’re done with him – you know he isn’t good for you – but at the end of the day, both of you come washing back into each other like calm waves to the shore. And you think you can stay like this. You can manage his moods, you can swallow his condescending tone, you can smile through his indifference but at what cost? Your tears? Your pain? Your numb hands? Your heart? 

Dear girl, do not be foolish. Do not fool yourself into believing he will see you as you see him. Do not fall in love with the false promise of a boy you thought would bring you the moon but gave you the burning, painful sun instead. Do not fall in love at a single look, at a single knowing glance. Do not give yourself away again so easily and do not fall under his charm with a single soft whisper. 

You have known pain, as much as your 18 years have let you experience, but no pain has come close to the pain you feel when your heart breaks for him. And I know, you hold on because the small moments you have with him matter the world to you. You may laugh, your heart may flutter, but feelings are fleeting and so is he. He leaves you in the remnants of your chaos, which is why you willingly offer yourself when he comes back. Do not let your heart be swayed, and do not trust its pleading screams when it sees him. You have to know when to put your foot down because your heart does not belong to someone who doesn’t even care for it. Someone who does not even value you as much as you value him. 

My dear, this is not love. Because if love is crying and aching for someone who doesn’t value your worth, if it is inflicting pain on yourself for someone that shouldn’t even be worth your time, then love is the worst thing in the world. And it is not. You know this. 

Let him go. Because if you truly did love him, you would. You do not belong in his arms, nor does he belong in the arms of someone he takes for granted. 

Seek yourself. Be free. 


As my uncle’s new white SUV cruised up the mountains of Mindanao, I stared out the window and was greeted by a familiar sight. Out the window, across the road and out into the open sky was the sprawling green hills contrasting against the blue canvas of the heavens. This was no new sight to me at all despite the fact that I have never been here before and have never taken a road trip through these specific mountains. In truth, it reminded me of Cebu City’s backyard – the winding and curving roads in the mountains of Cebu’s province. 

Mother once told me to pray whenever we took a long road trip and even more so when it was during the night. The nights in Cebu’s provincial roads were as dark as pitch, with nothing but the road illuminated by your headlights and the metal walls of your tin car separating you from all the secrets that hid behind the night’s black curtain. As a child, I always prayed silently to myself during these trips through the night. The thought of white ladies, ghosts and aswangs hiding in the century-old trees of Carcar made the hairs on my little brown arms rise and stop my breath. I closed my eyes shut, clung to my mother’s arm, and waited desperately to get to the safehaven that was wherever we were going that time. 

Now as a teen somewhat on the brink of semi-adulthood, I barely pray. I jump into the car, pop my headphones in, take in the sights for a couple of minutes and zonk out. Mother still urges us to pray and we do together but even she forgets sometimes. I sometimes wonder what has happened to us through the years. What happened to the family that prayed together every time they hopped into a vehicle? I look around and notice the small changes. The brother that counted road signs with his sister? He sits silently beside her now, not talking. The father that told jokes about the different people and things they saw as they darted through the road? He still does but he becomes silent after a while when nobody laughs anymore. The mother that always, always protected her daughter’s eyes from the horrors she thought she saw in the night? She closes her own eyes this time, only opening them to play Candy Crush. The daughter with wide curious eyes and imaginative brain? Her eyes are still curious but they look elsewhere and her brain has grown – slowly losing that child’s imagination she used to hold dear. 

And as she looked out the familiar mountains that weren’t really familiar at all, she imagined what these green mounds would have looked like all those years before. It was there she got her answer. Time changes us. And now as she would traverse through the night in that white tin car with her family with her, she would not be scared of ghosts out in the road anymore. Because they were there, inside them all. 


I don’t know if I miss you or if I’m just lonely. It hasn’t even been a week of radio silence but the hollow ache in my chest still throbs as fresh as it was the first day. Ignoring you isn’t as easy as I thought it would be. Truthfully, it should be. But when you’re in every song I hear, every paragraph I read, behind my eyelids every time I close my eyes, and in every thought I think, it’s a Herculian task. You don’t know how much I want to ask you how this is so easy for you. The number of times my fingers absentmindedly tap your name and open your message box is countless. My whole body is atuned to you, every muscle moves on its own – it has you memorized in its core. My senses tingle when you’re near and my mood sways to you. And when you’re so ingrained in me, so deep inside my psyche, I can’t just wash you out. This is withdrawal and I’m crashing – badly. I can’t begin to forget you when all I want to do is drink you in and memorize your every line, explore your every crevice, feel your every plain. Is this what that sparkly vampire (Ed-something) meant when he said Bella was his own personal brand of heroine? Because, love, I’m an addict and you’re my personal Mary Jane and I can’t just let you go when I’ve sniffed you in.



I read what you wrote

There was a bit of anger

In me and bitterness

In my mouth


I could not collect my thoughts

The words flow out of

My fingertips onto the screen

Tears in pixel black ink


I watch your favorite

Marauder on the internet

He reminds me of you

Or have you become him


It’s late

My eyes glaze over

And locks on your name

As it has always done


The world is quiet

But my thoughts are not

They’re filled with you

And wanting to –


I lay in bed

With you still on my mind

I can’t stay angry at you

Why does this happen all the time


Lol this is pathetic

And I guess

this is it. The final hour. The final good bye. We have both completely exhausted ourselves in this competition that the endless cycle of hurting and peace and hurting has become. You won’t let me win and I, like a fool, won’t let you as well. The result, we sit in radio silence – your location a mere 17 kilometers away but our souls a million miles apart.
And I know. I know I said awful words and did awful things out of pure spite. I have no excuse. But for a moment there, you mattered to me.

I guess, I didn’t matter to you.