My name is Sam. Short for Samantha. I’m an only child. My parents met late in their lives. My father was 37; mother was 34 when they got married. At first they said, it was a marriage of convenience. Each smarting from a heart-breaking separation from their love partners. Mom and Pop were fraternity brod and sis. They were getting on age and decided to get married because: one, they were close-friends. Two, they have no infectious diseases – both were healthy. Three, they have the same interests. Four, most importantly, they are both attracted to each other – they get impure thoughts looking at each other. Five, they desperately want to get married. They are more than of age. When, they got married, both their brod and sis were happy for them and they came out to their wedding and contributed on the expenses.

A few years, after their marriage, they both ask themselves why they haven’t noticed each other earlier. The reason they asked is they want to have lot of children. But it was a bit too late for my mother. I was the only child they were capable of producing at this late in their marriage. To be sure mommy had a hard time giving birth to me. Mommy gave birth through caesarian operation. Being 36 years old at the time, she was suffering minor Preeclampsia, high blood pressure, bleeding, abdominal pain and swelling.

But they wanted to have children so much, my mother endured the hardships and complications on her pregnancy. My father wanted a boy for an only child. I guess he was disappointed in me. So that’s probably why they named me Sam. Or Samantha.

When I was a kid, my father bought me toys that boys normally play with. Toy guns, toy cars and trains. I learned to ride a bicycle at three. Strumming guitar at seven. Flew kites at ten. I guess you would consider me a tomboy. Because I love to climb trees. I can out-swim boys. I even beat-up some of my male classmates – when they bully some of my female classmates. My dad taught me aikido, taekwondo and arnis when I was five.

Sometimes, it is the source of conflict between my dad and mom, because my mother wanted me to join a beauty pageant. I don’t want to brag but I have what it takes to be a beauty queen. I took after my mother who was a former cheer leader and a muse of their basketball and volleyball teams.

But my father had other things my mind. And my father had the advantage. He started on me early. I guess, I was destined to live a masculine image. Although, I haven’t notice the opposite sex, yet. I’m not sure whether I like girls or boys just yet. But all that was going to change in college.

Angelina Jolie a confirmed tomboy as a kid who grew up to be a beauty.

My father enrolled me in his alma mater in college. He even forced me to join their fraternity – amidst the protest of my mother. So I can have friends who will back-me up or support me. Making me safe in school and not be bullied. My mother don’t want me to undergo the difficulty of being a neophyte and the hazing.

But as always, my father’s wish is followed. Not contented with his stage father role he even forced me to join the basketball and volleyball team, which was easy for him because he had a brod and sis who are influential in the sports department of the school.

Due largely to my father’s prodding I became the MVP and team captain of our lady’s basketball team. After we beat the other schools in the championship. It was at this moment that I found out what my real identity is.

Prior to this, I had several girlfriends which made my father proud. I really didn’t pursue these girls, on the contrary, they were the ones who pursued me. Showering me with gifts. Rich girls, who wants to experience a different kind of relationship. I’m not sure if I really like it or not, but was flattered of the attention.

After we received both our championship trophies, the MVP and the team captain of the winning basketball team for both male and female team were introduce to each other. The team captain was not much of a looker, but he has this rugged good looks that remind me of a young Charles Bronson. And it made my heart skip a beat. Just like Buddy Holly’s song Heartbeat.

 To make a long story short we became friends. And our friendship has given me a lot of heartaches, because he considers me one of the boys, so he openly talks about girls that he liked. And here I am aching to be his girl. The penultimate heartache and insult he did to me – without his knowing of course – was when he ask me to be the bridge with my best friend who also was very much attracted to him. They became – what showbiz termed – as an item. And they both thanked me after that.

To add insult to injury this Charles Bronson type hunk one time after practice when we were drinking beer told me, if only you’re not gay I would have fallen for you. I don’t know whether he was teasing, was drunk, or really meant what he said, but it hurt me a lot. Everytime I saw how happy my best friend is – she even narrated to me the things they did, places they go – that it is like they’re tearing my heart apart.

Do I have to continue suffering like this? Or will I admit the truth. I guess admitting the truth is much harder, that it is better to suffer in silence. I cannot even tell my mother. Shall I change my identity? And act more ladylike? Or try to shed this pseudo-persona and finally admit that I am really a woman. And looking to have relationship with a man, and not a woman? My life is really complicated and difficult now, I wish I could open-up to my mother. To ease up the pain. Maybe I should stop being an athlete, instead join the cheering squad.

Well, this is me. I hope you will accompany me again, as I write, about movies, fashion, Art, Trends and Literature.

By the way I’ve transferred to another school, and am not an athlete anymore. I do, some minor modeling for friends involved in fashion, and TV commercials. Former friends, are very much surprised of my 360-degrees transformation. My mother is very much elated, and my father is always cleaning his shotgun whenever guys come to visit at home. Charles Bronson and my best friend have broken-up and he is constantly calling me, hoping to hook-up. I ignore his calls, out of loyalty to my best friend. But if he keeps on insisting maybe he’ll get lucky. But I’ll have to wait until my best friend is involved with another guy, which I believed will not be long now.