September 06, 2007


It was a question I’ve heard only a few times before, and it never had any effect at all then. This was a question that, like many others, had a fairly easy answer.

Until I heard it again – just a few days after I turned 32.

“Don’t you have a barkada you could go out with?”


A few factors must have made that particular moment different: (1) it was a Saturday and I was at the office rushing some work; (2) the question came from a friend who I haven’t seen for so long, and; (3) I just turned 32, still carrying the residues of a quiet and restful birthday celebration.

The answer used to be “of course I have barkadas,” referring to the times when drinking was almost a daily spree, and when there were at least two other persons involved in doing almost anything.

Those times suddenly felt distant, so ancient history.

The people that used to share the beer and crowded moments have evolved into emails, text messages, or photos in the pages of Friendster.

Then again, this evolution is primarily brought about by my innate propensity to put “go out with friends” at the lower half of my to-do list. Out there, beers still flow amid cheers and jeers. The only difference now is that I’m not in the picture. I guess I’m very lucky for simply having that chance to experience those moments despite being an introvert.

Though I miss those moments and everyone that’s been part of them, I must have evolved, too. A single bottle is all it takes now to get me woozy, and every birthday greeting through email, text message, or call gives me a greater high that no amount of intoxification can match.

Thank you for the greetings and well-wishes! Cheers!