I write about my 22-year old brother Michael a lot. I use a lot of different nicknames to describe him – alternately, he may be my room-mate, my boyfriend, my man-slave, or my personal assistant.
And I really do treat him well.
When I upgraded to an iPhone, he got my old iPod touch.
When I won a free Nokia 5230, courtesy of the wonderful folks over at Nokia Philippines, he got it to replace his aging S40 cellphone.
Whenever I see a great pair of pants or a cute shirt on sale, I buy two – one for me, one for him.
Every gift certificate I win, he gets. When his car breaks down, I spot him the repairs. When I order a pizza, the free one goes to him.
All of this cannot hide the fact however that he is a tremendous source of insecurity for me. When talking about him to friends, I always say that God was just using me as a beta version for practice, and Michael is the Golden Master release version of the ideal De Joya male.
In advertising speak, I’m the compre, he’s the FA.
How so? Check this out.
For all intents and purposes, we have the same features – the same eyes, the same nose, the same eyebrows, the same lips.
But God got the Sexy Time details on him right. A hard, squared-off jaw. A lustruous full head of hair. Chiseled abs. 6’3″ in height.
He’s a member of the Ateneo varsity volleyball team, and a former Mythical Six selection in his junior UAAP days.
He’s clever, practical, very street-smart, and much quicker than me in figuring out stuff.
What advantages did God give me in return?
I have a lot of comic books, and very pretty shoes.
Sigh.
Sometimes the world isn’t fair.
My younger brother is much hotter than me. And all this makes me believe is that even God, with His infinite power and wisdom, sometimes needs practice.
FML.





