Not having a real social life is just one of the complaints any mother would have, especially if you are a single mom like me. Going out is just so limited to the wholesome, kiddy kinds of functions. Since I do not have a nanny after 6pm on weekdays (and the whole of weekends) there’s just no way can I check out the new LB night life. (I’ve been told that new Makati-like bars have suddenly sprouted.)

It has been 4 years since I’ve been in Leandro’s or the old Padi’s Point. Last year, sometime in August, when Abby and I got away to visiting Gemma in Subic: I was able to steal time when Raine went to sleep at 9 pm. (During that time, a nanny was available to stay the night with him.) So we Tres Marias (with Abby’s brother as our “bodyguard”) went to this bar called Brews (or something like that, I was too tipsy to remember exactly) But I do recall that I didn’t know what to order, so I just asked for the good-old San Miguel Super Dry and must have been mistaken for idiots by the waitress when Abby and I in unison, quipped “what’s that?!” to his brother’s order of San Miguel Strong Ice.

Recently one good soul just told me that having a social life is hard work. I say it is and in my case expensive: money-wise and time-wise. It’s not that I want to indulge my dormant alcoholic intestine. But there are really just times when I wish I could get happy and drunk; talk non-stop with my girl friends; catch up with old drinking buddies (who knows maybe find new ones?)…and just let loose. He he. Maybe even watch a movie that I particularly like. And perhaps go to church with less distraction (a.k.a Raine).

My point really is that, in this society that I’m in, I’m not a single mom at all, not even a woman (with wants and needs). I’m just a mom, period. That since I have a-boy-in-tow, people (I mean total strangers, sometimes mere acquaintances who happen to be outside of the “gossip-vine”) immediately conclude that there must be a Mr. in the picture and that I, without hesitation am always, being called Mrs. In daycares/schools, clinics/hospitals, banks, grocery stores and supermarkets. Where I have to deal with questions like: “So, where does your husband work?”, “How many kids do you have, is he (pointing at Raine) the only one?!”, “So when are you planning to have the next one?!”. At the start I tend to correct, but then in the end you just get tired of explaining. Otherwise I just might wear a badge that says “single mother – no husband”, short of wearing the scarlet letter.

Anyway, Raine’s nanny very well knows my situation as I told her from the very start. Not the gritty-nitty details, just the plain simple-no Mr.-nor-daddy-in-the-picture. But since she’s the one who gets to stay in the house the whole day, she’s the one who has to deal with the nosy neighbors. So to keep them from asking too much, she just told them that Raine’s dad is working abroad. The story seemed to have worked for awhile. Until last weekend, when out of blue, one store owner innocently asked me how long has Raine’s dad been working abroad and where. (?) Uh-oh…cat got my tongue. I’m such a bad liar.

The moral of the story: do not assume; learn how to lie (sometimes).