I have
never, for the life of me, imagined my loins throbbing for somebody more than
five years my junior. Other than the fact that consummating such desire is
illegal, I have never found girls that young attractive.

Recently
however, after reading Jason Mulgrew’s tirade on how the shock that comes with realizing
that the aforementioned girls have grown into lustworthy sex kittens has driven
him into the brink of stabbing his penis with a fork; and after seeing first
hand, how my brother’s own female friends have err…“grown” in more aspects than
one, I am now asking myself some serious questions that come from the depths of
my very being:

1.   Are
you really that desperate?

2.   Are
you doing this because your last dates with women your age didn’t work out?

3.   Speaking
of dates that didn’t work out, aren’t you going to ask that Kat girl for the
2,300 pesos you spent on her for your last date back? I mean come on, that’s a
lot of money to throw around for someone who wouldn’t even let you kiss her.

4.   Oh
wait, it wasn’t 2,300 pesos, it’s actually 4,300
pesos. If you count that 2,000 pesos you spent for that hotel room you didn’t
even use.

5.   Does
the 1,200 pesos you spent on that prostitute you picked up on Tomas Morato to
take her place count?

Anyway,
my brother celebrated his birthday last Sunday and in attendance were some
really foxy chicks. I couldn’t even believe that these were the same little
girls who used to call me ‘Kuya Mike’ three years ago; the same girls I hoisted
on my shoulders while helping them practice for a cheerleading routine; the
same girls I pulled a peeping Tom on while they peed in our bathroom. I mean
fuck! They have really, REALLY grown.

So for
the most part, they went on partying. Enjoying horrible hip-hop music, popping
a few bottles of beer, enjoying the finger food my mom prepared for them and of
course dancing which, goes without saying, I enjoyed a hell lot. Now, there are
a couple of guys in the party as well but me and my friends Jay and Dave made
sure that they feel alienated and uncomfortable by insulting them while we get
ourselves piss drunk in the sidelines and occasionally throwing cubes of ice at
them.

The girl
who caught my eye was a girl named Cheryl who was this busty 17 year old who
could really work her ass while dancing. Now I found out through my brother
that Cheryl was actually the girlfriend of one of his friends but that didn’t
stop me from flirting with her and throwing my arms around her at some point while
we were dragging a cigarette. Her boyfriend didn’t seem to mind and everybody
seems to be having fun.

Cheryl
was actually enjoying our conversation and was opening up. I learned that her
parents were having a financially hard time getting her through college and
how, surprisingly, she and her boyfriend had a little fight prior to coming to
the party. I’ve never talked to her in that regard before and I was honestly
torn between playing the advice spewing older brother and the opportunistic, morally
depraved sex maniac. The mighty duo of alcohol and lust made sure that I was
leaning towards the latter; every detail she shared with me about why she and
her boyfriend fought stoked the flame of raging hatred I had towards him more
and more and had me hinting at why she’s better off with me. (Six-figure
salary, car, donating to charity, bigger penis, etc.)

Towards
the end of the night, I had a good buzz going on from drinking about six liters
of beer. Cheryl was already done for the night and was sleeping on my shoulder,
her boyfriend, on the other hand, was busy playing NBA Live 2006 on the PS2
with my brothers’ other guests.

Okay,
this is embarrassing, but the wheels of the party came off when I ‘tried’ to
kiss Cheryl on the cheek with the operative word being ‘tried’. I was just
sorta pulling my face close to her’s, trying to sniff her perfume or something.
I mean come on, I can’t really remember, I was pretty drunk.

Suffice it to say that Cheryl wasn’t on the same level of drunkenness as I am
and therefore was pretty offended (or freaked out) when she woke up to my hot
breath on her neck. She and her boyfriend went home fifteen minutes later much
to everyone’s surprise.

Anyway,
Cheryl, if you’re reading this, I want you to know that I love you. I mean I’m
sure that us being together is illegal in one way or another but I know good
lawyers. They’ll probably put me behind bars for two years or something but I
believe that love is something that is fought for; and Cheryl, your love is
something I am more than willing to fight for.

I have
encoded my number on your cellie under the name ‘Michelle Macaraeg’ so that
your sack of shit of a boyfriend wouldn’t get suspicious. Call me, or if you
don’t have load, Text me or something. I love you. Muwah!