The Rules of Attraction

I always think about reasons to especially liking a person. In my "study", I get drawn to someone who gives me special attention, drops hints, remember the most remote things I said or in this case, "posted" in the past. I think those things light my fire immediately. So there was this incident when someone I've known for a long time did just that. It ignited some kind of flame or whatever.

Maybe, I'm just lonely as hell but still, it counted. I didn't toss and turn in bed thinking about it really but I couldn't take that incident off my mind. And well, along with that incident, is he.

I couldn't take him off my mind.

Seriously, seriously, seriously, I would not prefer to like this person. Why? Because I am not supposed to! But why? I would like to point out this man's + and - :

+ He is wise beyond his years, smarter than half of the people I know

- Younger than I

- Loud and obnoxious at times

+ Very very very ridiculously funny

- Drunk

- Hedonistic

+ Good looking

+ Articulate

+ Has a job

- We have too many common friends

Enough of this bullshit, really. But why? Why can't I like him?

I'd answer this, honest to blog.

I don't believe someone like him would want someone like me. I am just being realistic. I am not putting myself down. It's just that these things couldn't possibly happen to me. I know his type. He likes pretty girls. Ridiculously pretty girls. Okay, so do all boys. But yes, I am not his type. Period! And I should not like him. Period.

But I just couldn't take him off my mind.

The things he said and did (via alcohol).

The things he said and did, which may never happen again right?

That was just one night.

In the longest time we've known each other, he never ever ever took a point across or drop a hint that there is a slightest possibility that he likes me.

Never.

Just that one night.

And I shouldn't take this one night seriously, right?

No one like him would ever want me.

I am no exception to any rule.

He is one of those very very predictable men we call "bros" hahaha and he's got "bro" friends as well. The ones who post photos of very beautiful women in their facebook walls and discuss in painful detail everything they can possibly do to her.

Oh my God!

I couldn't possibly fall for a bro! Fuck this shit. Should move away from trouble before trouble's too deep.

The one who got away.

I wanted to do the right thing, hard as it was. My beautiful parents taught me well.
But one thing that was never discussed in the dinner table and Sunday get-together was how to deal with love when it fails you.

Ma and Pa never skips the sermon on 'true love that waits', 'true and honest love', 'enduring love', 'love is work', 'waiting for the right one', 'chastity' and all other subjects that only hardline Catholic parents could muster and I will be forever grateful for the morals they have instilled in me. I believe that discipline is one of the best kinds of love a parent can give their kids. Without it, I would have been out there doing unthinkable and unspeakable things. I would have been a lot more wounded girl in this cruel world.

And then came love. The kind you read in books and see in films. The intense feeling of being swept off your feet. The overwhelming kind. And the best part, it was the kind of love that was returned and maybe even more than you could ever have again.

Everything in its perfect place. The feeling was mutual. The distance contributed to the build up - like the start of a song towards the chorus. He, the ideal man. Strong and wise with a sense of humor that matched your own. The man who wanted to meet you. The man who wanted to see you and cook for you in the morning.

The man with a wife and child.

When the world crashes down on you, when your walls collapse, when your sanity leaves you one day at a time, what do you do?

The hardest part was not doing the right thing.
The hardest part of it all was when the right thing kills you in the middle of the night when you sleep alone in the dark. The hardest part was getting through the day with smile on the lips and grief in the heart. The hardest part was convincing him that the feeling is no longer mutual on your part.

A few years of silence with a bit of friendship in between.

And after the longest time - the first meeting. The face to face encounter between the one who let go and the one who got away. You shake hands and kiss amicably. How are you? How's work? Life? Like a drill you've been practicing all those years you've missed out on each other. Kids and career. A little about the wife. You feel a pang of sorrow nibbling on your ear.

You ask yourself, "Am I a better person for being here?" just to test yourself a little like seeing him in the flesh is not already too much. And the answer, of course, is YES.

Yes, you are a better person for choosing right over wrong. What if's and regrets aside, you are stronger for going through the fire rather than playing with it. Your humanity is larger than life. Your love exceeds your emotions. Your brokenness a sacrifice.

And now, alone you face the future. With strength, you will get by. Loneliness being a constant visitor. Your mind being the disagreeable dog that guards the gates of your longing heart.

You are the one who got away.


+ + +

'For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you.
Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.
And think not you can direct the course of love
For if love finds you worthy, it will direct your course. '

-Kahlil Gibran (The Prophet)

The single life.

Not to confuse it with the Paris Hilton-Nicole Richie show. I know I am not totally qualified to post the wisdom of an old maid. At least not yet. But what if I've already made up my mind about the path I am going to take in life? I may not be a spinster (not yet) but that is not too far in sight. I am 25, single (as in not dating single) and had lost faith in such things a long time ago. Once, I was talking to a friend and she said the problem with me is that I have such high standards. But I refuse to believe that. I have come across people that I really liked to be with but then there is always something major that gets in the way. And if ever my standards are high, I didn't mean it.

More than once, in times when life was just so lonely, I used to wish I'm a little bit dumber. Dumb enough to not care about standards. Dumb enough to hook up. Hooking up is really easy you know. You just make yourself available and cheap. If not cheap, then free. You go out at night, make yourself up, a cocktail in one hand (it's sexier than beer), slow dance all by yourself in the middle of the club, eyes half closed scanning across the room and you will never be lonely. If it worked for me then it should for any girl. But then it was terrifying and that's how I can tell I'm going the wrong direction.

I was in a club with a friend one night and she said that if ever that Big Brother show comes up with a DESPERATE Edition, we'd totally be in it. Then we drank to that.

I'm not going to be a hypocrite. As much as I am not fond of 'just-because' relationships, I get really lonely and dark. That is why I go out. But I don't put out either so the nightlife is not as wild as people would like to think. It's more of like how people go out and drink to get their mind off work. I go out to get my mind off loneliness.

I told my mother that I don't want marriage. I also don't want to bring children to this world. Don't get me wrong, I am totally fond of children. Not contradicting my screen name but right now, I really think that one positive thing I can do is to be realistic. It is also a selfless act, to not let myself enjoy and be absorbed by fantastical feelings of rearing someone as an extension of who you are or who you would've wanted to be. No matter how you deny that fact, you know there's a bit of truth in it one way or another. There will come a point in your mother/father-child relationship where your kids will decide to be themselves and then you tell them they're wrong because that's not what you had in mind. I will never wish that on a child. Also, some people are just not cut out to become parents.

My mother (who is not a fan of domesticated animals in her home) told me to never say never. I say whatever I say is not a promise, it's only what I momentarily believe in. Who knows I might meet someone who's strong enough to prove me wrong. Otherwise, I see myself in ten years living with a bunch of adorable cats.

The end of things.

Kyas moved to the next round last Monday at 11 am. If it was 11 am exactly, I wouldn't know. I wasn't there. Why is it that we think knowledge is power? If I would have known he was going to die that time, that day, I would have gathered my resources to be by his side and this goes out to every person I still consider as a friend.

Why do we love beating deadlines?

We don't accept it, but that's a fact. We are addicted to deadlines. It's funny how it's called deadlines. It's the end of the line. Unless, the boss is kind, he may give an extension. Like how God delays our deaths every moment of every day. Have you ever thought about it? Every breath we take is an extension to a deadline. We are already dead though it's just a matter of time. Unless, of course, someone had discovered immortality potion or fountain of youth or any spell that could make you live forever which I think is kind of dumb. There's no person in his right mind who would like to live forever. If you like that, I hate to say this but you're crazy. You're the type who would play level 1 of games and never proceed to the next level. You're crazy.

We love beating deadlines.
And we almost always end up too late.

A few months ago in summer, my dad's oldest brother died. He wasn't very old just in his early 60's. He lived a full life and that was what really matters, doesn't it? He wasn't a procrastinator I can tell because he's a popular AM Radio personality and being that comes a great deal of responsibilities. I was thinking about how when there are times you don't like to get up in the morning and just take the day off. He can never do that unless he breaks a leg or he dies or something to that extent. It's an awesome job and he loved it. A lot of people loved him and they were there in his funeral. Hundreds of them.

Kyas was funny. He was sweet to me. He must be sweet to everyone. I do not want to wake his corpse up (sorry, Kyas) but I guess it's worth telling the world that there was something between us. Every time we meet, which is just a few times a year, he would do and say something that would turn up my stomach. (sorry, Kyas) If he was like this to all the girls he had met, they should blog about it too. haha. What he said or did, is between me and his departed soul --- but it was special. He made me feel special a few times a year. There was one time I almost fell for it but then he never made it official. He just fed me a lot of chips and a lot of Coke and talked to me about sexual positions between people and sometimes between people and objects (like door knobs). This is what he does, we see each other and hug and he would lead me away from the crowd and we would take a short hike to a store where he'd tell me to "pick what I like". He would tell me I didn't lose weight and he would look real disappointed to find out that I didn't. And he must be real disappointed that he is into a BBW. haha. No, he didn't tell me he liked me but he couldn't keep his hands off me. It was a perfect match because, with the right amount of alcohol, I like to be touched. He made me drink a lot.

Kyas was funny. It wasn't exactly a date he was asking for but from the fact that we're going to be alone together and maybe some door knobs, it's going to become a date. And paranoid as I am, I declined when he offered me private bass guitar lessons. I declined any meeting that would not include anyone else. He was too smart. He was too funny. He was too generous. And I was too afraid to deal with it because I know I couldn't handle him.

But then again, he never tried. He didn't have to. It's just, we're okay that we're friends a few times a year. And touch-y feel-y friends after a round of drinks. (sorry, Kyas)

Monday, around 5pm, I got the text from his friend and band mate, Ivan, that he had gone. I didn't cry. I just couldn't believe it. Until now, two days later, it's still unreal to me. I'm still waiting for my tears to fall if it would ever. I don't know. I think I might, pretty soon. But maybe I just couldn't find any reason to cry. Maybe he made me too damn happy in all those few times a year that we meet, which made it all the more special. I'm really sorry Kyas, if I might not cry about your passing. We were just so damn happy.

There are many things I am going to write about the end of things aside from mortality. There are also the end of beautiful relationships, my weaning from addictive behavior and so on.

In my next posts, love.