Image courtesy of www.withlovekrisaquino.com
From my perspective, it has never been RECALLING the fights, the breakup, the disappointment over avoidable interviews that made me cry. It was remembering the happy moments that were so fleeting, but so special because they were so “normal”.
He went into my A&A dressing room on our 2nd telecast and said: “Ms. Aquino, may I have your number?”
He brought me a cheeseburger w/ no onions, fries, and a small Coke on my birthday last year. I’ve never had that meal again from that fast food because I’m now with the opposing Pinoy Food Giant (takot mag violate ng contract) and partly because it will just never taste the same again.
We watched the midnight screening of Divergent and I’ve never gone back to the cinema where we watched.
He gave me this funny looking, ugly cute figurine holding a heart, and I used to have it beside my bed, and now I have it kept inside my night table drawer.
He sent me a lot of Gatorade, boxes of it, and I’ve never had the sports drink again.
We went to 2 Starbucks with drive through windows, and I’ve also never gone back to those places.
We spoke of building a life together, actually set a time frame, in this restaurant in Greenbelt that I frequented because of their steaks and burgers, but I’ve also never eaten there again.
I cut off more than 18 inches of my hair because I wanted to forget how I must have looked with hair all over my face & pillow, when he used to surprise me by waking me up and bringing me my venti nonfat latte with no foam, just because his day would be so hectic and early morning was the only time he could see me, regardless of my still being fast asleep.
Broken hearts retreat to where they can be safe again, locked away for nobody to ever get too close to again…
This is the first time i’ll publicly acknowledge this, because I can now recall with absolutely no bitterness or regrets; on the first Friday of April nearly a year ago during merienda, he said he was tired, he didn’t want to play games, he was tired of chasing and of running away, and he wanted to feel secure with someone he could grow old with. He said, walang romance, walang lokohan, walang bolahan. Okay na raw ba ko to marry him kasi nga PAGOD na sya?
I remember laughing and saying that was probably the least romantic proposal any woman has ever received, but because we were so similar in our weirdness, I was in agreement; I wanted to grow old with him because I knew we’d never be bored conversing, and maybe this was where God led 2 individuals who deserved a chance at life long companionship with maturity, and full acceptance of equally colorful pasts.
We went separate ways because he had an appointment with an old professor he had kept close to, and I went to 6 PM Mass and prayed that this was what would be best for us.
The next day he had dinner with my family, and I cried during our heart to heart talk after that first attempt at introducing him to my family. I said I realized he never said he loved me, he was simply tired, and I didn’t want to be his version of Salonpas, Alaxan, Ben Gay, or a massage. He cried too and said he was scared, overwhelmed, afraid of being branded a “user” when he has given the majority of his life to public service, and maybe we should take a step back.
We went to Mass together Sunday because we had made a pact that praying together will be our priority, but again we parted immediately after Mass because he had friends to meet up with… I remember going home, alone because my 2 sons were going to have dinner with James and Mic. And I prayed and said, please God strengthen us, cement our bond, and protect our peace. And I remember thinking, sana umabot sya sa point that he would be comfortable enough to let me be more a part of his world.
I made the mistake of speaking about him the following night on A&A. The next day, over the phone he broke up with me, right before Bimb’s 7th birthday party.
In time we healed, and became friends again. Comfortable to catch up over the phone every few weeks or so.
The last time I cried about him was Christmas Eve. I remembered an earlier agreement that we had made, when he asked early in our relationship how we’d deal with the holidays, I said that my non-negotiable was Christmas Eve Mass with my family, but Christmas Day was for him & his siblings & his kids. And I went to sleep with tears quietly streaming down my face, sad that we hadn’t made it.
So can I be truthful, I hibernated February 15, and listened to this song over and over. I kept to myself and slept most of February 15. And I was proud of surviving.
Inayawan nya ko, I’d like to think not me the actual person, but the complicated baggage that comes with having a relationship with me.
He called 4 times that Sunday, the day after my birthday, and I just didn’t pick up. Bimb saw his name flashing on my phone, and he told me: “Mama, go ahead talk to him because when you talk to him, you get happy. But remember after, you get so sad and I hate seeing you cry.”
And BOOM, that was my wake up call, my long avoided wisdom coming from the innocence of my 7 year old.
I realized as much as I want us to be friends, we can’t. There were just too many promises that my heart so desperately wanted to believe in. And continuing the friendship will continue to make me long for what wasn’t meant to be.
And I want Bimb to see by my example, that his feelings come first. A 7 year old shouldn’t be subjected to being the protector of his mother’s fragile feelings.
And maybe this was what this whole experience of trying to love again was meant to teach me, to be HUMBLE that for a man not ready to commit, I WILL NEVER BE ENOUGH.
Yes in all honesty, I still pray for someone who can be my strength. I still pray for someone to talk to at the end of a long day, someone who will listen, and someone who will also teach me new things, challenging my mind, and mirroring my values. Someone to pray with and pray for. Someone I can trust with all my fears, someone who accepts my past, and still looks forward to our future. And someone who won’t be tired about love, but will accept, nurture, and treasure what we will share.
But then, maybe Mom raised me to stand alone, and own my strength. And maybe the rejection I went through is a blessing, because I needed to feel the hurt, in order to learn to be less selfish and more compassionate, to empathize more readily with those suffering from all kinds of pain.
I needed for my love to be declined for me to value those who accept my love with so much gratitude, and I needed to realize this important life truth: True love doesn’t find you, neither do you find it. You build true love together, and you can’t do that when you’re tired, jaded, or weary. Love is built by those who have inspiration, determination, fortitude, trustworthiness, loyalty, courage, childlike faith, openness, enthusiasm, and enchantment with what is, plus all that will be.
To now paraphrase my mom: And love can only make you the best possible version of yourself.
I was spared birthday blues maybe because God said: NATUTO NA SYA, OKAY NA YAN, SIGURO NAMAN MAG-IINGAT NA…
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