Monday, 24 September 2012

youngblood Y2K

It takes a lot of courage to post this, but because of the 5 people in my life who held my hand, rolled their eyes and literally shook my being to enlightenment during those pitiful formative years of my adult life, I am posting this here in my little universe.... (since it has apparently been published anyway..)

To my Popie, Marc, Aloy, Liezl and Tinee... some parts were a blur but I am posting this in its original form as an homage to your support and saintly patience, so pardon the run-on sentences and minor  syntax errors.  
(I said MINOR ERRORS!!! Stop editing my work, Marc dela Cruz!!)

And without a shadow of a doubt, I can incontrovertibly say,  yes, I have moved on!! HA! :-)  

Good luck finding this blog..
I love you to pieces.


5 January 2000

This, I swear:  This is going to be my last piece about AG.  In the past 2 years we’ve been ‘together’, I have vented feelings of bliss, confusion and desolation on paper. I have been doing this as a coping mechanism, with the hope that reading it will eventually make me realize how idiotic and pathetic I've been for allowing myself to be in this predicament.

I finally decided to have the much anticipated ‘talk’ with him 2 days before the New Millennium rang.  I had to seize my opportunity, as I knew it was going to take another whole month before this break materializes.  Our meetings are always based on his terms, never mine.  I have practiced my lines for weeks- in the shower, when alone in the car, as I lay awake in the middle of a God-forsaken hour in the night- and there was no way I was going to let this opportunity pass.

AG and I met at work.  He was a tall, fetching British man and despite his mumbled and oftentimes inaudible speech, we instantly became friends.  We shared the same love for movies, travel and self-deprecating humour.

A deeper relationship eventually ensued after months of going out.  This dragged on without any ‘strings attached’ because of the convenience it brought us and the ‘secret’ aspect of it all had its exciting attributes.  We were both single, however, he was still my boss’ boss, and there were corporate ethics to be respected.

Things were going great.  The mind games we played were exhilarating.  Our repartees during business meetings were exciting and arousing.  

That, until my emotions took over.  It hit me one day that I did not have a clue how he really felt for me.  Our physical attraction to each other was incredible, but beyond that, I was clueless.  This has been going on far too long.  Where is this headed?  I was too anxious to ask.

I conjured up so many thoughts in my head – perhaps I had to give him time, because after all, he is a man, and any talks about the 'future' will scare him off.  I convinced myself that he truly cared for me and that his intentions were all pure.  I held on to these illusions and gave in every time he asked me out.  But my ‘not knowing where I stand’ was beginning to drive me off the wall.

I just had to prove to my concerned friends and more importantly to myself, that he did care.  I needed to assure myself that there's a little bit of self-respect left in me, that I can be smart enough to realize if I am being taken advantage of.  That this was more than just what it was, otherwise, I would have to end this clandestine affair.

For months I’ve attempted to talk to him about the definition of our relationship, but I was too petrified with the possible aftermath.  I just didn’t want to look uncool.  That was the plain simple truth.  BUT, having my great plan of self-reinvention in place, I went for the kill.  I had to be honest.

I assumed my position in my favorite spot in his posh pad – atop the kitchen counter – to soften the mood, lighten the atmosphere- as he opened a bottle of Chianti.  That was a comfortable place for us both, where we usually talk about work, our family lives and personal movie critiques.  Of course I knew he was expecting a night of hot wild sex.  We already had a little too much to drink prior to that moment… but I was still sober enough to say.. “We have to talk.” 

He was stunned.  Looked petrified, even.  But compare this to my 2 year agony because of this undefined set-up, it should be a walk in the park for him.

“AG, I like you…. I mean I like you “like-you” like you… but I can’t do this anymore..”

So okay, it wasn’t the best opening speech that was integral for my life’s happiness.  It was, in fact, downright pathetic.  But hey, I was being human.  And honest.  I stammered, half regretting that I shouldn’t have said what I said.  But I had a mantra in my head...“What we do in our lives echoes in eternity..” as Commander Maximus addresses his men before the gory yet beautiful battle scene in The Gladiator. The significance of that line escapes me, but I felt I was at war and there was no turning back. So I over-dramatize.

I knew what I wanted to say.  Practice makes perfect, you see.  But for some odd reason, I found myself at loss for words.  Pouring your heart out to someone you are unbelievably attracted to and in the same way very intimidated by can be too overwhelming.

But in the feat of self-love and the determination to move on, I continued my piece.  I just want to be honest with how I felt.  That was the main objective.  As for the negative outcome, well,…. I’m blessed with good health, financial means to buy good food and very supportive friends, I’ll live.

Stemming from my introduction which obviously lacked confidence, wit and by goodness grace and elan, I told him I liked him too much to continue having meaningless sex with him. But not in those words, heavens, no.  What I said was “…what I have with you, is far meaningless…to me..” (I know, I know.  Tragic, right?)  I should’ve stopped right there, headed out the door, and let the earth open up and eat me alive. Alive!

But no! I was on a roll!  That’s who I am.  When nervous, I unleash this verbal gobbledygook.  So, more words were spoken by this Joan of Arc, this goddess of unrequited love, this idiot who was eventually going to regret everything spewing out of her big mouth, causing more humiliation and pain.

I went on saying that if he just needed a fast roll in the hay, I was not the person to call.  You can get any girl you want, AG. But please, not me.  I care too much. I said like an actress reading Shakespeare.  I wanted to die immediately after I heard myself say those words.

Oh he got the drift.  He was not daft.

He did not say much after my Oscar-winning, boner-destroying speech, although I was too lost in my own thoughts to remember how he reacted to my soliloquy.

He did say he liked me too (being nice, of course) although it wasn’t necessary for us to be thinking of our future.  It’s amazing how he can present to me his feelings in one straight concise sentence, whilst I had to depend on hours of preparation and the use of hand gestures to convey a single thought.

He said that he was being unfair and he was sorry.  I got it the first time.  It was loud and clear.  I was being rejected.

The night ended with an agreement that we really should start hanging out the way real friends should.  Dinner, movie and coffee, ending with a peck on the cheek and an affectionate hug. (Riiiiight, like that will happen.)

I do not remember the feeling of bitterness when I left.  I was hurt and sad, of course, but I did not feel empty and angry.  Remarkably, I knew the difference.  I didn’t care if I looked like a love pariah to him.  Initially my intention to break our ties was to consequently earn his respect.  Even that didn’t matter to me anymore.  My friend Aloy was right.  One can never go wrong by being honest with how you feel.  I put myself out there, showed unbelievable courage. I stuck with my objective, and that I achieved.  I went through the ‘talk’ for myself.  I was honest, and it felt damn good.  Liberating, even.

The weekend went on and I felt surprisingly okay.  I welcomed the New Year in my family’s farm in Cebu, as he partied with his friends in a secluded island South of where I was.  Despite my vow to seriously cut linkage, we exchanged text messages the second the clock struck 12.

He called me a few days after, we shared each other’s New Years resolutions, our own views about the bombings in Manila, and a promise to keep in touch.  I honestly did not think of it as a sweet gesture.  I knew in my heart that it was his mindless effort to prove that he was not, in fact, an asshole.  I just need to write this down to remind myself: HE WAS JUST BEING NICE.  Nothing more to it.

The AG saga ends here.  I’m ending it here.

I saw him in Giraffe with his British friends last weekend.  I did not make an effort to say hello.  I actually made sure he did not see me.  I did spend a few minutes watching him enjoy the night.  I was not crazy stalking, no.  I just watched him in awe and wonder.

This was the man I wanted.  He had me wrapped around his little finger the past 2 years of my life, despite my best friends’ unabashed collective disapproval. 

I cannot say if I was ever in love with AG.  Surprising as it may seem, despite the experiences I’ve had with men I was allegedly “in love” with, I honestly still don’t know how that feels.

That night in Giraffe I was silently taking in my loss. 

He truly meant the world to me.  A very corny thing to write but it’s simple and true.  But I meant nothing to him.  I was simply a sideline in his life.  A convenient body when he needed someone to boost his ego and morale.  He was just being nice.  I finally accepted my defeat.

I left Giraffe with my bestfriend Popie’s arm around me, silently hoping the new century will bring me the happiness I deserve.




Strength and honour! -Maximus Decimus Meridius, commander of the Armies of the North, The Gladiator


8 comments:

  1. I stumbled upon this while reading Benny's blog.

    I cannot tell you how much I can relate to your experience. Good on ya for doing this piece. We've all been there, and no matter how sucky & dark it felt, it's an amusing piece of your history to look back at.

    AG should have a copy of this. lol

    Cheers, Bebsy! Keep writing.

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    1. Wow. I received a handful of emails from readers who were 'led' here from Benny's blog. How about that!
      Thanks, katiemil. :-) Hope the writing was equally cathartic for you too.
      BC

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  2. Bebsy Capul. I would have done more than roll my eyes and shake you to enlightenment. I would have just asked you out and make you really realize not all men are assholes. But Im sure you know that by now. I hope. PE

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    1. Hmm. Not really, no. Thanks, Pete.

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  3. OMG Bebsy. How raw and honest. I know how you were concerned about posting this piece & the kiss'n tell aspect of it, but your candor negates that completely. I cried at your line about being in love and "still not knowing how that feels". Wow.

    It's painful and moving. Beautifully written! You're a rockstar, girl. Way to go.

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    1. Muchas gracias, abs. since when did u have google+?

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  4. You have just expressed what a lot of women 'love pariahs' are afraid to say out loud. It's so sad, refreshing and honest. A funny yet touching read. (I can picture you and the hand gestures! LOL)

    Curious to ask if you are still in touch with the guy.

    High five, Bebsy!
    ~Olivia

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    1. Does not account for anything, but we're friends on Facebook.

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