A TikTok love story
I first saw her in a TikTok video that my friend shared in a Facebook story. She wasn’t exactly my type, but she was attractive in her own charming way. She was smart, bubbly, though somewhat emotional at times. We both loved books. She was also a med student. God only knows why I have a thing for med students.
She hinted that she wanted a boyfriend in one of her videos. She didn’t have that many followers, so the competition wasn’t tight. The stars were aligning. The chances were too good. Somehow, I had to let her know that I exist.
The plan was simple: ask her through Instagram about a book she was recommending. That’s how our romantic journey will begin. It took days of brainstorming with a couple of friends to devise that plan. It was foolproof. Even Bonaparte couldn’t have thought of a better strategy.
Already I was daydreaming about our future. I imagined us reading and recommending books to each other. When I first thought about that, I grinned for hours. I thought it was cute. Now, I feel sick in my stomach realizing how desperate and lonely I was. I was already 20 for fuck’s sake, and I still acted like a horny 15-year-old. Every happy moment will eventually become a memory to cringe on.
I messaged her one Saturday afternoon while lying in a hammock suspended in our garage. I remembered it was June 12 – Independence Day. Somewhat fitting. She replied almost instantly. I jumped out of excitement. I messaged back, then her, then me again. Her replies were impenetrably blunt. Then silence.
A typical TikTok video lasts for about 15-30 seconds, maybe even shorter. Our whole conversation also lasted that long. That was our first, last, and only contact with each other. After a month or so she flew to New Zealand. My hopes and dreams were in the same flight.
I checked her Instagram a couple of days ago. She said her friends in the PH miss her. I don’t.
At least I didn’t meet her on Discord. Nothing good ever comes out of Discord.
Gifts and Letters
I spent way too much on gifts. Stuffed animals, Ferrero Rochers, Jollibee sundaes and french fries, Rastaclats, bouquets, 18″ pizzas, a whole paper bag full of gummy candies, pink hoodies, pastel highlighters, etc. With a belly like mine, I might as well be a sugar daddy. I remember starving myself just to save my allowance for those gifts. My thoughts about Martial Law and spending for girls were the same ever since. #NeverAgain.
I wrote letters to them. I don’t remember even remember what I wrote. Some corny shit, I suppose. What I do recall was writing very, very slowly to avoid mistakes. I may have shed tears while writing some of them. I imagined it like a movie scene. I may have a future in theater. Maybe I should’ve taken acting workshops.
Most letters were written on a sheet of thick, colored paper. One letter, however, I wrote on a sheet of white bond paper I shoddily cut. In it I drew the easiest illustration of a flower I found on the internet. I may have traced it with a pen, but I didn’t even color it. I gave it to her just before we departed one night. She read it on the train home, and told her male friend about it. Apparently, he got even more excited than her. Perhaps I gave the letter to the wrong person.
Knowing love
Once, during a Metaphysics class, the discussion somehow segued into the idea of love. A classmate jokingly said that there’s no philosophizing in love. Everyone fell silent. We were all certain that our professor would disagree and explain why my classmate was wrong and that we were all idiots for believing him. To our surprise, he agreed. There really is no point philosophizing when it comes to love.
Like all fundamental truths in life, love has no clear definition. If it did, then there would be no point writing songs, poems, letters, and blog posts about it. It’s a beautiful mystery, and a powerful one. It’s artistic, scientific, political, sociological, psychological, religious, spiritual, sexual; It’s brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique, completely not ever been done before, unafraid to reference or not reference, put it in a blender, shit on it, vomit on it, eat it, give birth to it. No one knows how to articulate it, but everyone feels it. It’s everywhere. It’s love, goddammit! and that’s all that we need to know.
What do I think about love? Contrary to the popular saying, I don’t believe that love is blind. Love is seeing and accepting. It’s making sure that despite how broken someone is, you’re still there. Love is seeing someone as imperfect, but also perfect. It’s not idealized nor bluntly offending. It’s a contradiction you accept and thrive on.
The philosopher Slavoj Zizek said it best: Love is when you see eternal beauty in the everyday person.
Alexa, play “Nanghihinayang” by Jeremiah
I have this rule that I will only confess if I think I have a chance, although there are a few exceptions: there were some who were better off as a friend than a partner. I admit as well that some of them were simply out of my league: either they were too pretty or too smart even for me. I wasn’t putting anything on the line, so I might as well let them know that I liked them. They surprisingly played it off well. And I’m happy that I’m still very good friends with all of them.
Some people think of confessions as something glamorous. They’re not. Sometimes they’re sudden – your gut just couldn’t handle it anymore, and you blurt it out. One time, I got caught having a photo of her in my phone. I confessed out of shame. She already knew I liked her. She friendzoned me while we were slow dancing during prom. We’re still friends to this day.
I’ve been rejected a couple of times. While I do believe that rejections don’t diminish your worth as a human being, they still hurt. But one eventually gets used to it. What hurts more than rejections, I think, are missed chances. What if she did like me, but I never asked? It happened to me once. I only found out about it two years after I got over her. If only I had persevered a little more, we might’ve ended up with each other. Did it hurt? Not really. Given how vast the world is, there’s no point glooming over one missed chance for that long. Realizing that there’s something or someone even better out there is exhilarating. Like an arrow in the forest, life goes on.
Never the same
Things will never really be the same once you fall in love with a close friend. And it’s even harder when it’s unrequited. There’s nothing wrong with falling in love. There’s nothing wrong with being incapable to reciprocate. You both love each other, just not the same way. No one’s at fault. There’s none to blame. Even to the closest and most open friends, this scenario is a bitch to deal with. You’re both left with two selfish choices: stay and endure, or walk away. Either way, set aside the ego. It’s not about you, and it’s not about her as well. That’s not where the problem is. It’s about what’s between the two of you. When you let your damn self-centeredness take over you and everything goes to shit, it’ll feel like you’ll live the rest of your life trying to atone for what you’ve done.
Perhaps time can heal it. Time heals everything. But that’s when you know that it really fucking hurts: when time is the only thing that can heal it.
You say to yourself that you want to be better before talking to her again. Better how? In what way? Just admit that you’re stalling. Stop apologizing. Stop doing stupid things and feeling bad about them. The clock’s ticking. You grieve for the lost time, and yet you can’t even send her a message.
She’s there. She’s there, waiting to tell you about her mishaps and to banter about whatever she’s into. She’s there, waiting for you to tell her how you’ve been all this time. She’s there, expecting the same funny, thoughtful, and amazing person she knew, because she never thought of you as something less. She was always there before, she’s there now, and she’ll be there the next day, and the day after that, and so on.
What about you? Where were you?
Tnx 4 d mmrs
Not everyone will stay in your life. The roads will eventually split. That’s simply how the world works. There are some that you will still talk to, and there are some that you may never see in personal again. You may even forget about them completely. The excitement of being in love will be nothing but a memory.
But they all have shaped you. Without them, you won’t be who you are now. You remember the stupid things you did, and you try your best to not do them again. You remember the good memories, and you try to make some again. That’s life in a nutshell.
Be thankful for them. Sometimes it’s best that people go their own ways to help them grow. Life’s too short to stick around in one place.
When I took a break from social media, every single one of them crossed my mind. I really did love them. I pray for them every single night.
I’m happy that they’re all doing well. Some are currently in a relationship. Some already have exes. I have a sloth plushie I hug at night. I named him Albert D. Sloth.
I’m going to install Bumble and Tinder now.
A Saturday Stroll – Fin.
My favorite thing to do in Manila was to simply walk around. When I got tired, I hanged by coffee shops or restaurants and sit right beside the windows so I could see outside. It was all beautiful – the people walking by, the swaying plants, the moving clouds. I felt connected to every person and thing I saw. I figured that it was a type of love like no other. I knew from the very depths of my heart that everyone has this love in them. The only problem is that it’s not apparent to everyone. Some people believe that they don’t have it. In our brokenness and busy lives, it’s more comforting to live and feel superficially. How I wish that everyone could see how beautiful and deserving of love they all are.
For now, I say this to every single one of you:
Happy Valentine’s Day. I love you.
Though I know I'll never lose affection For people and things that went before I know I'll often stop and think about them In my life I love you more - The Beatles, In My Life