It's gone

While I still shed a tear watching Pretty Woman or show loving stare on genuinely devoted couples, sometimes I think even the tiniest romantic emotion engraved in the past years somewhere in my heart has completely, utterly, and absolutely thawed out and vanished. I no longer relish romantic gestures, much less, romantic thoughts and expressions. I cringe when I come across narrations of love and romances being forced out of people who have just been or, much worse, are presently in their first ever formal relationships. I have also ceased to be affectionate, warm, and adoring.

The feeling became apparent this morning when I came across a love story about an exchange of gifts between lovers spending their first christmas together. Stories like this normalle make me sigh. There have been times when I would suddenly close my eyes and re-enact events and place myself in the picture. The sighs definitely became deeper. Yes, if you will, a drama princess. To the highest degree. Even inanimate things as a red pen or a lifeless paper napkin would, without a doubt, gain life from my thoughts and assume very significant meanings and worth.

I now fear, when romantic feelings leave, are they gone for good?

Little things mean a lot

People might be surprised to know that I'm actually shy.
The most important thing I’ve ever learned was keeping private things private.
And what this taught me was I can become a good confidant.
My mother taught me charity.
My best ever outfit consisted of trekking shorts, leggings, dri-fit shirt, 60-liter backpack.
My Saturday night consists mostly of home-cooked meals and dvds.
The soundtrack of my life would include mostly choral music.
If I were invisible for a day, I’d slip inside the Pope’s bedroom and find out how he sleeps.
What makes me most angry are people who power-trip.
When I’m gone, the’ll probably say he was a good friend.
The world would be a much better place if everybody smiles and shares.
My hero is my grandfather Cesar.
The thing that makes my life worth living is respect from my family.
I’m saving up for my own place.
My biggest indulgence is a massage.
My current state of mind: melancholic.
My five favorite words are hey, dude, see you soon.
The worst thing somebody said about me was I was mayabang.
The secret to happiness is contentment.
When I retire, I would farm and do civic work.
I aspire to be a good son.
I haven't told my friends about that two-page feature on me in FHM.

An old loveletter

What I lack in a vibrant social life I make up with a marvelous collection of very touching love letters I have received over the years from people who have been part of my life in some very special way. I consider myself lucky or, if you may, blessed to have been associated romantically with these very few people who are intelligent (because they write in impeccable flawless english), sensitive (because they are in touch with their inner selves), romantic (because they know handwritten letters are timeless), brave (because self-disclosure takes a lot of guts), and simply attractive (because men who know how to write really are alluring).

One of them came from A. We were together in college although the letter came much later on. I came upon the one-page letter again last weekend after going over my several tin boxes which I use to store letters, pictures, notes, little gifts, and sometimes unused condoms. Even if I needed to get my moves on cleaning my room that Saturday afternoon, I still stopped for a while and read the entire letter. I felt good afterwards.

And so, to pay tribute to a gained friendship, I wanted to share an excerpt from this love letter. In more ways than one, I hope it will provide you a glimpse of me, of my true heart and self, and of the countless unspoken truths about myself. In parting, I wanted to express my sincere gratefulness to A. for a meaningful friendship.


My Dear J.,

Your question on whether a person should give the reasons why he loves someone has made me think in the past few days. I could have easily answered with a Miss Universe cliché like enumerating reasons would take forever, but certainly, a man of your intelligence and wit deserves something better. (Naaaaaks!)

So I tried counting. In the car, at work, at home, in the shower, before going to bed, while eating, practically while doing anything. I slowly realized, I could really go on forever counting. Pffffft, there goes my Q&A portion. But it’s true, in the past months that we’ve been seeing each other, I have grown to love each and every bit of the person you are.

You make me laugh. I immensely enjoy our conversations, be it about our provincial childhoods or our metropolitan adult lives. You inspire me. By being genuinely pleasant, you somehow bring out the better me. I’ve noticed how much more patient I am now, how I’ve become more cheerful, more forgiving.

I am happiest too when I’m able to bring out your smile. Nothing compares to the gratifying feeling whenever I have done or said something that has made you happy. I am also thankful that you have been a very good friend especially during my sad and weaker moments. I’m not wishing you’d have such times too, but count on me to be always there for you.

Mahal kita. Not just because of the things I just wrote about, but also because of all the other things that you are. It’s amazing how one feels love all over again. J., I feel really blessed, lucky and joyful that I met a very special person like you. I hope that someday, luck would bless me more times over and give me the greatest honor of calling you mine.

By now you’re probably on the plane or in your hotel room. Enjoy your vacation, do not hold back when a new experience presents itself, but please, please, please take very good care of yourself. I will be waiting for you back here in Makati.

Love,
A.

Reminiscing

I was probably around 12 years old that time when I sent out the first love letter which carried my name. I don’t exactly remember what was written, not even the events surrounding that fateful day. All I remember was feeling immense delight seeing a scented stationery neatly folded inside a colored envelope adorned with scattered tiny trimmings of hearts and stars and dolls. For one young boy on the edge and age of discovering things, that little packet seemed to contain everything a tiny heart yearned to share. I do remember holding that tiny thing in my hands and saw an exquisite labor of love.

It was, in truth, an unselfish sacrifice on the part of Ate Mag, our 18-year-old maid that time who spent many hours that Sunday afternoon leafing through songbook after songbook to find the right song lyrics which we can copy, send out as my own, and pray soon after that I can get away with it. I rode my bike to the girl’s house around 200 meters from our place and braved their dogs to hand in the letter. I must have been furiously tensed that time or desperately frantic that I didn’t even manage to stay for a conversation. I came and left like a terse and hurried sneeze.

Many years later today, I have probably written a few love verses here and there for somebody. Some were delivered still in paper and envelope, but this time, (thankfully) unscented. A few came as beeper messages. Others were sent via electronic mail. To my credit, each one was painstakingly composed, not by the maid anymore, but by myself. I am not gifted with the ability to weave words into some form of artwork, but I’m proud of my tireless labor to put a face, through words, on my feelings and my heart’s sentiments.

Answers please

I’ve been building up my list of when-will questions that have been begging a great deal for answers. The list comes after several solitary visits to a local coffeeshop or fastfood and drown myself with the sight of passing people.

1. When will women learn how to wear thongs and spare themselves from ridicule whenever they insist on wearing panties beneath their tight pants and give rise to awkward panty lines shouting to the world?

2. When will men discover the virtue of wearing boxer shorts over close-fitting briefs that hug your skin so closely they can hardly breathe, thus creating a groin area that’s so damp, moist, covered with sweat, and completely filthy.

3. When will men realize that belts have to match shoes in color and stop walking around the town displaying an unpardonable stupidity?

4. When will men and women grasp the simple yet critical truth that protruding nose hairs don’t have a place in this world?

5. When will women decide on going against the tide and risk being labeled as playgirls from choosing to accept dating proposals from several men (or other women for that matter) all at the same time knowing that that’s the only way they can intelligently judge who’s best for them?

6. And finally, when will women finally relent and give up their hopes of ever ending up with a guy who’s intelligent, witty, sensitive, and responsible because other men have taken most of them already?

Here we go again

At about this time last year, I was alone in my place. It was a weekend, the maid was off, I didn’t have an out-of-town trip, there was so much time in my hands I didn’t know what else to do to match up the cool December breeze and the seasonal melancholic mood that strikes usually at the end of the year. I decided to clean my CD rack and check out albums I haven’t listened to in ages.

One of them stood out: Lea Salonga's The Christmas Album. I slipped it in the player, propped myself on two giant floor pillows, closed my eyes and soaked myself with tears as I listened to two songs over and over and over and over again.


SANA NGAYONG PASKO
(Jimmy Borja)


Pasko na naman ngunit wala ka pa
Hanggang kailan kaya ako'y maghihintay sa iyo

Bakit ba naman kailangang lumisan pa
Ang tanging hangad ko lang ay makapiling ka

Sana ngayong Pasko ay maalala mo pa rin ako
Hinahanap-hanap pag-ibig mo
At kahit wala ka na nangangarap at umaasa pa rin ako
Muling makita ka at makasama ka sa araw ng Pasko.

Sana ngayong Pasko...


IT'S JUST ANOTHER NEW YEAR'S EVE
(Barry Manilow/Marty Panzer)


Don't look so sad
It's not so bad, you know
It's just another night
That's all it is
It's not the first
It's not the worst, you know
We've come through all the rest
We'll get through this

We've made mistakes
But we've made good friends too
Remember all the nights
We spent with them
And all our plans
Who says they can't come true
Tonight's another chance
To start again

It's just another New Year's Eve
Another night like all the rest
It's just another New Year's Eve
Let's make it the best
It's just another New Year's Eve
It's just another Auld Lang Syne
But when we're through
This New Year you'll see
Will be just fine

We're not alone
We've got the world, you know
And it won't let us down
Just wait and see
And we'll grow old
But think how wise we'll grow
There's more, you know
It's only New Year's Eve

It's just another New Year's Eve
Another night like all the rest
It's just another New Year's Eve
Let's make it the best
It's just another New Year's Eve
It's just another Auld Lang Syne
But when we're through
The New Year you'll see
Will be just fine

It's just another New Year's Eve
Another night like all the rest
It's just another New Year's Eve
Let's make it the best
It's just another New Year's Eve
It's just another Auld Lang Syne
But when we're through
This New Year you'll see
Will be just fine.

On getting serious

We are all too familiar with the little things that dating couples do when things start to get serious.

Let me count the ways:
1. Each one is in the speed-dialing button of the other’s home and mobile phones to make sure time’s not wasted punching numbers. On very rare instances that that doesn’t happen, one is expected to have planted the numbers from memory so they can be spewed out from recall with great ease.
2. Your mobile phone now becomes your most important material possession. It’s the only thing that ensures you’re connected with your prince. So you start buying several battery chargers – for the car, at work, to add to the one you have at home. Your mobile phones, thankfully, will never see dark nights again. They will never be seen without charge again.
3. Even the most inhuman and evil physical torture employed during the war will not erase from your memory all of his details which you managed to gather from research. You can easily and eloquently articulate his biodata even in your sleep.
4. You have perfected the art of worrying and being paranoid whenever the other person doesn’t call or even send a text message. When this extends to mid-morning and, God forbid, late in the day, your officemates consider being near you as wilfully exposing themselves to unnecessary danger. You become ferocious ready to clamp down anyone who unfortunately gets in your way.
5. The slightest mood changes are easily reflected in your face. Everyone who knows you will turn your face into some kind of barometer to warn every person who might want to come near you. Wrinkled look means the safest place to be is in planet Pluto.

But things have changed a bit in the recent months. Today, it’s easier to spot couples or those who plan to be coupled with another. All you have to do is check if they have, as a second line, a Sun Cellular pre-paid account. If they do, chances are things are getting serious, if not genuinely serious.

A confession

There’s no question about it. Jollibee’s Champ burger is infinitely more appetizing than the rest. The juicy patties oozing with flavor pressed between crispy lettuce and melted chese beneath two fluffy buns appeal to me all the time. I have to train my eyes not to look at the tempting product shots every time I line up in their counters. Otherwise, that would mean staying a little longer than usual doing cardio in the gym in order to wipe out fats.

But even with my open fondness for the Champ, I still queue at McDonald’s more often. Not for their burgers although I have grown to like McChicken already, but for, well, some mortal reasons.

For those in the know, you may have noticed how the fabric used by McDonald’s for their crew uniforms carry this special power to hug the body so closely. Especially the pants. I don’t know how the textile is called or where it is sourced, but it’s something perfect to emphasize some regions in the lower torso and, of course, the groin area. For one, it makes the pelvis noticeably broader, the waist fiercely slimmer, the thighs impressively firmer, the butt powerfully rounder, and of course, the champ down there brutally stiffer therefore easier to spot and make sense of things.

I’m sure your next McDonald’s visit will never be the same again. Tell me about it.

My cellphone is me

My new mobile phone has been a constant object of funny remarks from friends ever since I got it about a month ago. Almost all of the one-liners thrown my way dwell on the phone’s perceived rightful place in the cellular phone family tree. In terms of sophistication, my phone’s supposed to be in an unflattering position since it doesn’t have a camera, the backlight is colored blue, no bluebooth, sound is far from being polyphonic, no built-in JAVA games, while compact it doesn’t use joystick for navigation or at least have faintest capability to receive photo images.

I have learned to laugh at all these. Not to mask hurt or feign offense, but really burst out loudly because it’s simply funny. Once, I was out in my favorite place checking out the latest pirated DVD releases and found myself checking out instead the mobile phones of the salesladies posted all over the area. Good, I wasn’t with my friend Adel otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to prevent myself from laughing. You see, the salesladies were almost outdoing each other with their high-end clamshell phones flaunting the cameras and the polyphonic ringtones and wallscreen images. They may never be able to grasp their camera’s functions and capabilities, but for them, it adds that tinge of style or elegance that has eluded them no end.

Deep down inside me, however, I feel a soothing sense of relief. My phone may not be really hot on a mugger’s eyes, but it has brought some very hot personal lessons to me.

Firstly, I have learned the virtue of contentment, to make do with what’s available. I’m glad the idea of keeping up with the Joneses has completely lost its appeal to me. I know now, one’s personhood is never dictated by cellphone models or apparel brands or other flimsy standards. The Little Prince comes to mind, what is essential is not visible to the naked eye.

Secondly, I’d like to think I know my priorities pretty much. I didn’t finish economics in college for nothing. I’m not gifted with an endless stream of money supply, my resources are extremely scarce, but I have sufficient amount to get me any of the recent phone models if I want. The thing is, the lowly Nokia 8250 phone I’m using now is serving me well. All I need in a mobile phone --- text messaging, voice, alarm clock, and calculator --- are conveniently featured in this second-hand phone.

Lastly, this phone has reinforced my image as a cheapskate, the man to beat in negotiations. Imagine, from 4,700 pesos, I managed to get the seller to agree on a price that's 1,000 pesos cheaper. Without dancing, blowing fires, eating worms, or anything like that. No one can beat that!!

Don't be stingy with praise!

As sure as virgins still exist, I will never understand as I have never understood the idea of some men that, to keep their partners in tow, sincere praises and compliments have to be scarce. I don't know where the idea came from, but I do know it's a widespread disease now among us.

Most men fear that incessant doling out of praises that show appreciation to their partners somehow unmasks them unnecessarily to expose their vulnerabilities. For example, some will never be heard saying how lucky they are, how their life has become more meaningful, how they look forward for each day with their partners. These verbal affirmations, as a popular reasoning goes, make them appear weak and thus, more vulnerable. They fear that they unnecessarily display desperation or patronage towards their partners and make themselves defenseless. And so, some men deliberately become stingy with praises and affirmations thinking it's the only way to protect themselves from being abused. This reasoning has frequently been challenged and found to hold more air than substance.

A lot of my friends who are partners to husbands, wives, boyfriends, and girlfriends have frequently complained to me about feeling unappreciated by their partners. It's a sad reality. And all too often, it has its roots in the stupid idea propagated over the years on how a man should behave. We are all too familiar with these illusions: men should never show any emotion, they should never be seen with a tear, they should hold, never to breakdown.

So what do we get? Men who are so obsessed with appearing as men leaving their partners feeling sad, unappreciated, and trapped in unfulfilling relationships.

Questions

For a moment, I wanted to get out of the office today and head straight to Marikina since it was nearer although Real, Quezon was where people should go to help. I couldn't imagine myself in my office attire sitting comfortably in an airconditioned office working while countless people are currently without shelter, food, wives, husbands, parents, and children.

I began to question a lot of things. For what worth is one's work if it's not of help to other people?