Boss, Babae

Posted by Abdel Kadz on Thursday, October 23, 2008 with 7 comments
Over the weekend, I went to the biggest mall in the country to look for that dream phone of mine. My phone has been dying on me time and again that I fail to receive important messages while I’m in the office. I charge the batteries (I have two in fact) the allotted time so that I can rely on them not dying on me. With just a few hours of use, and I’m not even texting, I’ll then just hear that warning alert that instantly translates to “I’m about to be drained.” It gets so frustrating at times that I just want to throw the phone and be done with it.

I learned that the XpressMusic would be available December or early next year considering that it was just advertised this month in countries other than the third world Republic that we call our nation. Disappointed over this little news, I got a pair of Levi’s instead (weheh). It is when I was about to go home where I get to the main body of this whole blog.

It was around dusk. The sun was just about to set in what polluted eastern horizon Metro Manila has. As I take the public transportation (read: the jeepney) going home, there are what we call terminals or (un)usual areas that drivers usually wait for passengers. The jeepneys I ride home are situated near MRT Taft, but since there are those stupid MMDA pink fences, I had to walk till the point where the fences end, and it can be tediously far.

So there I was, leisurely ambling with a Levi’s paper bag in one hand, puffing a Red Marl with the other, looking so ruggedly debonair and waiting for a jeepney to come my way (weheh) when a 40-something woman approached me and blurted that I’m-a-mamasan-and-I-know-you’re-sex-craved-this-very-moment “Boss, babae” as if it’s the most normal thing to say. Wow, it was still literally day, with the sun still churning out a glimmer in the eastern skyline, yet prostitution in one of the busiest, foot-trafficked areas in EDSA is already alive and thriving. This is how it is in the country. Since prostitution is illegal, we have what we call intermediaries or middlemen, colloquially labeled mamasan, who do the negotiations on behalf of these ladies.


I wondered where the coital undertakings take place if ever somebody would take into consideration these carnal services. The (in)famous Sogo Hotel is just a stone’s throw away from the train station and where I’m currently standing is a little farther from that. Looking behind me, I was shamefacedly dumbfounded when I learned I was right in front a clandestine motel the name of which now fails me. It’s the type that offers a few hundred pesos for a few hours of quickie pleasures. Before people might construe that I just came out a satisfied patron or someone who just had some who’s-your-mama spanking, I sheepishly sidestepped from the motel sign abuzz with Christmas bulbs above me.

You’re probably working up a conjecture as to what I may have retorted back to that “Boss, babae” that was just thrown at me. Well, what I did was flash her a half-smile, stepped back a little, then the hand gesture saying “Thanks, but no thanks,” then got on a jeepney when one just stopped in front of me. Funny, this is the second time this has happened. The last instance was walking home along Delta, Quezon Avenue during our PT internship. Imagine, I just got off from the hospital, and I was even in my all-white school uniform. Come to think of it, maybe even then I had the I’m-sex-craved-right-now neon sign flashing night and day above my head. Uy, the customer. The battery for these bulbs now needs draining a little, hopefully curbing an incident like this from happening in the future. What did you say now? Okay, fine, I would have to do away with the spare one too. Wehehe.

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