who is that half-naked man on your screen?

my father stood in front of the wall* and in a forced chuckle spoke up, “you shouldn’t be posting this pic here.”

i looked up from my laptop (i was chatting with zsolt and working at the same time) and saw him staring at this picture:

blog2.jpg

“and why not?” i asked him, giggling.

he looked at it for a while then went back to the sofa and sat with me. “you are not caucasian.”

it is funny: how traditional my family is and how different my thoughts have become. i couldn’t use conservative here as although i have very obvious, liberated way of thinking, i still am very conservative on a whole lot of things (to zsolt: you can stop laughing your ass off now). but for father, posting a pic of me and zsolt in my apartment wall- that was quite too much for him.

he likes the idea that i turned out to be very independent, though. but getting pregnant outside wedlock is not an option for him– no, he vehemently refused to see my point when we talked about it last month as if it wasn’t a hypothetical question and as if i am actually really pregnant. he also do not like the idea of a beach wedding in some secluded beach in PI. “your relatives are here in this hometown… it doesn’t sound right. now, you get married here and i will worry about feeding them all.” i can still remember him saying a year ago.

i guess that is just what fathers do. they always, almost, never wanted to see their daughters grow up. just few minutes before he noticed the picture on the wall, we were drinking coffee talking about the upcoming barangay election and the funny stories that comes with it back in my hometown. he was telling me a story and stopped at mid-sentence, “who is that half-naked man in the webcam?”

i was multitasking. i was doing some work from home, chatting with zsolt, and talking to father when he noticed shirtless zsolt from the webcam lying comfortably under his blanket.

“oh.” was all my reply. i looked at him and could see the wrinkles on his forehead. he shrugged and continued his story.

perhaps, it is sometimes lost on him i am now 26 years old. i have left home when i was 15. and that mother and he got married when they were 20. and that, yes, this is the 21st century.

“what is wrong with it? he is my boyfriend.” i told him after he gave me a reason why i shouldn’t have displayed the picture on the wall*. “jeez, that is just a kiss.”

“we do not do that.” he replied.

“in public?” i grinned. “it’s not that bad. come on.”

he looked at me, holding a cup of half-finished coffee. “you are never gonna get married, are you?”

my father is so beautifully strange. and you guys wonder why i am psychotic.

.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
wall* – a large board where jesse and i put random pictures of us or people we know and hangs proudly on the wall in the living room of the apartment.

Advertisements

About this entry