With this many cousins, it was bound to happen.

I want to get something off my chest. It’s been bothering me for sometime now. If I don’t do it here and now, I’m afraid I’ll blow up at the person it concerns. And that could be messy seeing as that something of extreme importance will be happening soon. I’m afraid for the words I’ll hurl at her. If there’s one thing I know how to do, I know how to throw words. I just hope this little post will quell the anger and sooth the hurt I feel. (A little dramatic, non?)

This thing I need to vent about has to do with a cousin of mine, for whom I have always found, well, let’s say, aloof and shy. I’m sure that when she’s on her own she’s much like my dog Boj. He, when he’s alone, is happy, ears perky, a bounce in his step, and a visible smile of teeth and tongue. When I let his father Sisqo out, Boj’s ears fold back, he lays down on the ground, trying to make himself as small as possible. Eventually, Sisqo sits on his head. But this isn’t about my dogs. This is about what I was recently told.

The setting: Parking lot of Canada’s Wonderland.

The occasion: A Grade 8 graduation trip.

The cast of characters: Myself, my grade 8 friends, and my cousin, who I will not name, not out of fear of her finding out, I wouldn’t be writing this shit if I didn’t. No, the reason why I withhold her identity and still tell this story is so that she may know how she hurt me. Although you are my family, you act nothing like it. This extends far and beyond the incident/catalyst for this post.

Anyway. Wonderland. It was the end of a long, fun day where in I remember riding rides, playing Mortal Kombat in the arcade, and at the end of the day came upon a girl in my class who had spent the better part of the afternoon trying to win herself a plush sheep. The game she was playing was that one where you have to throw the ball into a basket. I told her I’d give it a shot, and with one try I won that stupid sheep for her. Yea, that’s right bitches. I was a Mack back then, too.

Feeling good, sheep in between myself and Alexandra, we waited for our bus to arrive. Chatting and waiting I saw my cousin getting out of her car with some friends. I hadn’t seen her in quite a long time so I called out to her. She saw me and we started walking towards each other. I hugged her tight and kissed her on the cheek. I walked her over to where my friends were and introduced her. My cousin is a very attractive girl, I do not deny that, so I was only proud to walk her over to my friends and introduce her. Eventually our school bus pulled up and we left.

Fast-forward to sometime in January, 2005. My dad, mom, and I, over a casual dinner were talking about random things when we some how arrived upon the topic of the cousin in question. After a few exchanges about what she was doing with her life, and the usual retellings of how I used to torture her even though she was older than me, my dad said something along these lines, “Your aunt, a long time ago, told me and your mom something about your cousin.” I looked at him and asked him what he was talking about. He asked me if I really wanted to know. I said, “yea, sure.” He looked at my mom, mom said, "If you really want t tell him", dad assessed, then continued. “Do you remember seeing her one time at Wonderland?” I said, “Yea.” He continued. “Well your aunt told me to talk to you about it, but I never did. We just stopped going to their house. She told me that at Wonderland when you saw her, your cousin said that you hugged her weird.” I looked at him, “Hugged her weird?” He took a sip of water, “You aunt was implying that your hug was something more than a hug.”

My heart soured.

How could my own cousin believe that I was putting moves on her? It saddens and angers because while I care for her, she mistook my affection for attraction. Now, the latter has turned to indifference, the former never there. But really, that’s pretty fucked of her that her initial feeling was that I was trying to molest her, don’t ya think? Goddamn, do I look like the type?

A couple months ago she and I were talking on MSN, a rarity as I’ve seen her MSN contact list. Everyone is blocked, except for her boyfriend, and, I assume, she only unblocks people when she wants to talk to them. We were talking about something she wanted me to do, and then we got to talking about our family. She told me that she wished our family was as close as her boyfriend’s family. That was a painful stab. This fucking girl telling me that our family isn’t close. Like that is somehow our fault. I am plenty close with our other cousins, she is the one that feels they, and I assume now, myself are weird. But that’s fine. It isn’t the best feeling, but that’s fine. I never complained, until now, that she was the one that whenever I came over as a child she stayed in her room like I was some stranger. How awkward she made me feel climbing those stairs to say hello, and never leaving her room when I went back downstairs. To this day she does that. But even worse, she does it to her mother and father, her boyfriend in tow.

Maybe this isn’t her fault. Maybe it has something to do with the way she was parented. But seriously I don’t think so. Her mother and father seem to be very caring. In fact, her mother is my favourite aunt; always offering, never taking, and some how always knowing exactly what I need. (Me, the guy that has everything) But yet my cousin treats her as though she is inconsequential. Brushing away her advice, and never giving her mother an inch inside her life. I would go on and say more, but my ingrained Filipino respect prevents me.

And that reminds me. There is one more thing that saddens me about my cousin. Again, earlier this year at my Aunt’s birthday, as we left to go to their house for dessert I told my aunt that I brought her and my uncle a DVD to watch. I thought they might like it, I said. My cousin, being an amateur film aficionado, asked what it was. “It’s a Filipino comedy.” A sour look came to her face, followed by a disapproving, “ohhh” that had an audible edge of “ewww”. “You’re such a hater,” I snapped at her. As if I slapped her across her face, she was taken aback. Her neck even recoiled a bit. Luckily I caught myself before letting anything else slip. The avalanche in my throat swelled.

If there is one thing that I have grown to detest is those that become indifferent towards heritage. This is not a post on heritage and those who forget it. That will come later.

One final note: I am not writing this to hurt or slander, I am doing this to prevent that. If you’re reading this, dear cousin, I did not write this to hurt you. While I’m sure it very well might, anytime in the next two months would be much more painful. You know what I'm saying. I will say this though: You are my cousin, my blood. Though you do not act like family, I will always be there to be yours. I just don't understand how you are incapable of being close to your own blood as you are with your boyfriends' kin? Whatever your reason, the next time you think I’m tonguing you up in a parking lot in front of my entire class, and then I introduce you as my cousin to them, let me know before getting parents involved.

Hugs-and-strictly-platonic-kisses, EEBEE.

Addendum (18/06/2005): I talked to my cousin chris (Chris is a dood, and not the cousin the post above concerns) last night and he went on about, "Why did I post this?" and brought up the point, "That's some personal shit." Let's assume for a moment that I too have feelings. Let's put aside the fact that this might make my cousin feel uncomfortable. Let's put aside all of that and think about how the situation made me feel and continues to make me feel. Don't fucking judge me for what I say of other people, I say what I say and will not retract it. I say what I say because I mean it, not because I want to entertain. This is not one of those posts. This was an attempt at catharsis, an attempt to purge some bullshit that's been weighing on me. Now that it's out, I'm done with it. Six months of holding on to it was enough.