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
