Fantastic 4

Meet the….

The Glamazon

Statuesque. That’s how she was described as she was walking down the Boracay shoreline in a bikini. Considering that the observation came from an unbiased authority figure with nothing but the highest standards (who else, but an extremely stylish gay man?), there must have been some truth to it.

We first met in college back when we were, what we now fondly refer to as, “young, poor and insecure”. We had a crush on the same guy and would be all giddy over him. Deeper secrets were soon shared and a friendship was formed over cigarettes and long bus rides home.

Some odd years, countless cigarettes and individual cars later, she remains to be the extension of myself, my alter ego. My Best Friend.

I’m dramatic, she’s rational. I fall prey to obsessive compulsive analysis, she’s quick to simplify and evaluate. I love coffee anything, she only drinks the beverages that her company manufactures and which she tirelessly samples on us in the hopes of getting us to patronize them. Where I am jaded, she is optimistic. I dislike roughing it out in the great outdoors, she’s the diver/athlete whose testosterone level is equal only to her Glamazon quotient.

As my Best Friend it is her job to give me a strong dose of reality when I suffer from a hangover of depression or delusion. I know that she will give me the truth and nothing but the truth, so help her God, about my hair, my weight, my clothes, my career path, even my parenting style. As the Best Friend Code states, it is her right to tell it to my face, straight up. The license to do so is granted on the basis that only she can serve me a shot of cruelty and chase it down with kindness and concern.

As Kiddo’s Godmother, she makes it a point to spend time with her and get to know her. Without my having to say a word, she has made it her joyful duty to be more than a Birthday and Christmas Gift Giver to Kiddo.

When drafting my will, I asked if I could appoint her and my sister as Kiddo’s guardian. She asked me only one thing: where do I sign?

The Temptress in Sheep’s Clothing

I introduced her to her 1st boyfriend and somewhat had a hand in bringing them together.

That was back in her – and she will be the first to admit it – wimpy days.

She has definitely come a long way since then. Currently, she is the undisputed expert when it comes to men and the official consultant on the latest trends in sexual ethics. Her mantra: "Basta, you have to be professional!"

Her claim to fame is that all the men in her life have professed undying love for her in one way or another. Her problem has always been preventing them from getting too attached to her. It must be her girl next door aura mixed with the latent femme fatale quality that draws them to her -- they just never know what hit them. To them, she’s the best of both worlds.

It’s the same thing with us.

Free-spirited and generally of the opinion that public displays of affection are distasteful, she is surprisingly possessive and very protective of us. When something is frustrating and annoying, she’ll find a way to laugh it off. Her candor is sure to bring endless laughter to an otherwise ordinary occasion. Leave it to her to always find something funny or at the very least, smile about.

Her expertise on the male psyche enables her to give insight on all kinds of men: bad boys, shy types, ex-boyfriends, and extends to even those of the purely fictional type like Spongebob Squarepants, Squidward and Barney – the men that Kiddo and her 4 year old nephew are currently enamored with.

The Go-to-Guy

Quietly driven, self-made and just really kind. He is the undeniably nice guy my mother always told me about.

I don’t remember exactly how or when we first met. He probably doesn’t either. I just remember him always being there, the ever reliable one I could always go to.

When I need technical assistance with my laptop, my car, my remote control -- things that would emasculate my gay boyfriend –- I go to him. When I don’t feel like driving (and even when I do), I call him. When I’m done putting Kiddo to sleep, but still need to vent about a bad day, I go to his place, or he comes to mine. Never mind that it’s 1 o’clock in the morning.

He could play the stud card and win any girl over with his caring, sensitive nature, but he lacks the necessary chip to play that game. Though it would probably break our hearts a little bit when he does find a suitable girlfriend among the typical choir girls that he dates, he constantly reassures us that he needs our unique brand of spice to balance all their sugar.

Sensing Kiddo’s suspicion and initial hostility over his presence in my life, he made it a mission to win her over. It was somewhat a long courtship which was finally sealed one night over a cup of Haagen - Daaz. He has now become Kiddo’s Official Go-to-Guy for ice cream.

….Twelve years ago, the four of us went on a school retreat, bunked together in one room and stayed up the whole night just talking. We pretty much a foursome after that.

We lost touch a bit when The Temptress and I got involved in our own individual relationships. After that, we would pretty much see each other during parties, and when I decided to settle down; monumental occasions like my wedding, Kiddo’s baptism and succeeding birthdays.

When my marriage fell apart, and I could only take the security of old friends and close family, they were there for me. They did everything they could to help me get through that time. We’re closer than we’ve ever been since then.

We still stay up talking till morning like that night of 12 years ago. Only this time it’s mostly at my place, especially if I have to stay home with Kiddo. We don’t have to be out to be together anyway. I provide the drama, The Glamazon brings the rationale, The Temptress brings the laughter and The Go-to-Guy brings his sense and sensitivity for the long session of talking, reminiscing and imagining what the next 12 years are going to be like.

I look at the four of us and see that togetherness is not meant to substitute history, only enrich it. That polite restraint is a courtesy given to social friends, but the prerogative of honesty and freedom of speech are reserved for friends who have earned it through years of non-judgment and empathy. That moments of laughter are equal in weight to moments of comfortable silence. That the unspoken is sometimes a language only long time friends can understand.

But mostly, that it is not just blood that defines a family.