Déjà Fuck

CAUTION: Not for under 18. ;)


I was just finishing my last few bites (more like quick gobbles) of pork afritada and sautéed balsam pear (nyehehehe...what a pretentious way to say "bitter melon" or "ampalaya"), half-way through the reruns of Season 2 Episode 19 of Sex and the City ("The Chicken Dance") when I semi-choked. No, not because of the, ahem, "balsam pear", but because of one of the lines Carrie was VO'ing to Samantha's fornication scene:

[He] seemed so familiar. Samantha was having a déjà fuck.

Déjà Fuck. Loosely defined, it is "when you're having sex with someone and you realize that you've slept with them before".

My old officemate Bambi told me once that she was having some mmmmm-ing in bed with "some guy" when she realized she's already slept with him (Oscar, his name was) a long time ago. How in God's name did she arrive at this epiphany? The shape--uhm, in all its oddness--of Oscar's penis. Bambi was like, "I swear, Benny-boy [She should SO stop calling me that], I've never had sex with anyone with a dick as big and as crooked-to-the-left as his. When he took off his boxers--Oh, what's up with you men and your boxer shorts? Do you guys think that you are going to sleep all the time?! Anyway...--I knew it was him. Oscar *bleep*. Ateneo Law. Venetia Bar. Horny, sex-crazed bastard. Eeek."

Makes one think: what's up with these now-almost-anonymous one night stands? Has it come to a point where we just lose count, simply because we're already talking in the double digits (or triple!)...and actually forget these people? And what exactly does it take to remember?

I remember a personal experience in a bar in Manila. I was with friends, and I just got back from the US. I got the feeling of being watched, and so, almost instinctively, I turned to a non-particular spot. True enough, somebody was watching me. And quite intensely, for that matter. We exchanged nods and almost perfunctory smiles and went back to our own businesses. But merely five minutes later, me with way over the drunk driving blood alcohol content in my system (thanks to Strong Ice, Vodka Red Bull, and White Tail red wine combined), I found myself strutting to their corner of the bar. As I got there, we locked gazes. And with a semi-bewildered look on my face, I asked, "Aren't you my ex?"

Beat that. ;)