My First Foreign Romance
(a foreign affair)

I am a 50-something mother of four grown children and live in New Jersey with a husband of 30 years. This has been my home for a couple of years now. Previously, home was in Cebu, Philippines, where I was living a comfortable yet stressful life. Juggling work, home and social commitments like a headless hen brought me to the point of exhaustion. I was living yet I had no life. So with packed bags and confident determination, I headed for a different surrounding . America!

Coming to the U.S. was a challenge and a relief. Here, I could dress any way I wanted to without the reprimands of my fashion conscious children. I can now visit places where I only see on t.v. and probably bump into the likes of Richard Gere, Josh Groban and Julia Roberts. And most exciting, I can flirt with whoever I want to without the wagging tongues of neighbors, relatives and well meaning friends. So in short, I am FREE.

Not that I’m a flirt, but being convent bred has always contained my every move. Loud guffaws, indecent skin exposures and immoral behaviors were often condoned. The stare and pouting lips of Sister Lutgard would flash before my eyes every time I am confronted with such situations.

The realization of such restricted movements came during cocktails after a symposium I attended at the U.N. in New York. In one instance, I went to the bar to replenish my drink of merlot. While waiting, a man in his thirties donning a black suit brushed up beside me. I was mesmerized by his Adonis look and Herculian build, the type that makes any woman's knees wobble. Simultaneously extending our hands to the bartender, he looked at me, smiled and then winked .
Just then , I froze. With wine glass in hand, I darted from the bar as fast as I could looking for my husband, who was with me then. I felt like a foolish schoolgirl running away from a pack of wolves and probably from possible danger. Heck those nuns!

Thinking about the incident that night, I just couldn’t sleep. Friends having affairs, flings and adventures of promiscuity dazed my mind. Was I experiencing mid life crisis? Was I combining the 7 year itch and the 15 year anxiety to break the existence of my mundane life? America is huge and no one will know.

Then came the time when my musician son invited me to see him play with his band, a group of 3 Caucasians and himself, at a Brooklyn bar. My daughter in law and I, with some other Filipinos decided to support the group by watching them perform. As we were standing at the far corner of the bar holding our drinks, Paul, the lead singer of my son’s band approached the group . Mind you, I have never met any band member before that night.

Among all the sexy, young brown skinned girls within the group, it was I whom Paul approached to strike some conversation.

“So” Paul starts, “How do you know Wiggy?”
“Wiggy?” I asked questioningly.
“Yes, Wiggy, our drummer in the band. How did you meet? ” said Paul.
“Oh, you mean Wiggy, my son!” I exclaimed.

Paul looked at me intently and was starting to turn shrimp red. Finally he got his composure and said., “Oh! I’m so sorry!” If he was trying to hit on me, then I am flattered.

What’s with these young men anyway?! Just for the record, I’ve never had botox, nor liposuction, but I must say I can still pass for a good catch to to be hit on twice!

That night thoughts of the movie, “The Graduate” roamed through my mind. Is it possible? I wonder how Demi Moore is feeling right now. Just then, Sister Lutgard’s face appeared and the thought immediately vanished . Shame on you , woman, for those sinful thoughts!

Then I met Matthew. His mother introduced us. The moment I set eyes on him, I was in love. Blue eyes, blond hair, Caucasian with the sweetest smile. Although abdominous and many years my junior, his white butt is delicious to behold and he is indeed properly endowed.

Ours is an open affair. Four nights a week, I spend with my husband, and the three nights with Mathew. Don’t get me wrong. I love my husband, but Matthew makes me feel young and energetic.

With Mathew, it’s those special moments of feeling vibrant again. A walk in the park while holding hands, strolling in the woods then playing hide and seek. And the rewards of a find is a tight embrace.

During winter, we would just cuddle with blankets rolled over our legs, eating popcorn while watching T.V. We would have snow fights in the backyard and then drink hot cocoa in between laughters.

Ocassionaly when he wanted something, I would put my face nearer for clarity and on cue, he would plant a kiss. I would snuggle up his neck and sniff as hard. He always seem to smell so good.

On rainy days, we stayed in the family room where we would just have downtime I would be content reading my books while Matthew would be pounding on the computer or doing his puzzles.

Our relationship is more on “old goat teaching new tricks” mode and Matthew just loved it.

In due time, Matthew will realize that his feelings for me will wane and that freedom of some sort is innevitable. I will then have to accept my fate and cherish the moments spent together.

With Matthew it is reminiscing youth with all its trimmings. It is a unique and special kind of love affair. There is no sexual innuendos, nor is there any communication of intellectual comprehensions. Instead, it is a nurturing experience, a learning growth and an unforgettable one of a kind romance which overcomes the difference in race, sex and age.

After all, Matthew is only 2 and a half years old and I’m his nanny.