The 29-year old Quitter

Alice: It's the only way to leave. "I don't love you anymore. Goodbye."

Dan: Supposing you do still love them?

Alice: You don't leave.

Dan: You've never left someone you still love?

Alice: Nope.

-- Closer

Hi, I’m a quitter. There. I said it, loud and proud. I still cannot believe this is how my 3-year old job will end. Although I don’t love it anymore, still, this is not how I planned to leave. Now, I have to start again. Build everything from scratch. Go through the same rollercoaster of this so-called cruel career life.

Now I started to doubt myself: Was I wrong that I decided not to continue fighting? Did I do it right by resigning?

It all started when I got suspended from work. Everybody knows I was the victim. The case was so shallow everyone knows I can swam my way up. I was a presumed innocent. Everybody told me to fight. Everyone supported.

That’s when things started to get messy. The management, oh-so-mighty, was able to turn everything upside down. I became the convict with proving evidences. I felt powerless. I was drained, physically and emotionally.

I felt myself changing. I laughed less and I think about the case all the time. That’s when I reflected if the fight is still worth it. Considering I won, would that make me happy?

I used to follow my intuition. But with this crisis, I consulted professional help, in the form of my best friends. We may not agree on a lot of things, but this scenario proved otherwise. They all told me to follow my bliss. What would really make me happy. Then it hit me.

You can all call me a coward, a scaredy-cat, a quitter. Maybe that’s what I am. Some people dance, other people sing, and some others paint. I quit. Whenever I go to a grocery counter with a long line, I don’t buy stuffs. When an argument heats up between a friend, I stop the fight. When a potential love of my life showed coldness, I break up.

Whenever I felt things get so complicated, I quit. And I never looked back.

It may sound sad, but this is my happiness. I don’t have to be perfect to be honest. And I certainly don’t have to be perfect to be happy. Isn’t that what life is all about, anyway? There are things that we never want to let go, people we don’t want to leave behind. But letting go isn’t the end of the line. It’s the starting point of something you would wish you will never leave this time. And with that, you are secretly hoping, that maybe, you would never have to quit again.

The Independent Heart

“It’s so much freedom all at once, it’s beginning to feel like severe loneliness.”

-- Rachel Berry, Glee

I. Living Out

I did it, finally. It’s the start of a new era, the promise of the golden days. The glint of sunrise peeking into my new life. I’ve been wearingly waiting for this moment. They say you cannot call yourself an adult if you haven’t moved out. Of course, college dorms don’t count. It’s when you live singlehandedly. Go by your own rules. Freed yourself from any soul other than your own. I dreamt of this space. Then I have it. So, what now?

The master of my own universe. It was liberating. Was used as an operating term. In theory, I can do whatever I want. I can dance around naked, laugh my heart out watching the stupidest movies; and cry till my eyes pop listening to emo songs. I can eat standing up, strut ala Victoria’s Secret model and sing like it’s the last day of my life. Funny thing is, all these crazy stuffs look so promising at first. Then I’m done. And they all just look plain crazy.

II. Staying In

Sure I have all my outrageous friends to fill up my independent living. We party out the hardest and we chill-in the best. Oh how I treasure those weekends when all we do is be silly and do not care what anyone perceives of our insanity. But you get to a point of everybody leaving, heading back to their own usual lives. While you stay. Alone and waiting for the end of another boring day.

The days seem to be dragging, I notice. Blame it on the science of ageing, but I discovered that my bed is now my favorite place on earth and my pillow hugs the tightest. TV is my new bestfriend and my fridge can store almost anything edible or non-digestible. The lazy genes now flow in my veins. My list of what to do, where to go, what to eat and who to meet almost always remain pending. I have the plan. The will just gets in the way.

III. Moving On

It has been three months from the move out. I met new people. Some were inconsistent, others erratic, and a few remain constant. But there is this one who stuck the most. As cliché as it may sound, he was there when I least expected it. Yet there still seems to be a problem I can’t figure out. He’s everything I’ve been looking for: The stand, the sex, the stability. Maybe it’s not him. Maybe it was me who’s wrong. Oh yes, I know now. I’m not vulnerable enough. Or at least not yet.

Times have been lost. Hearts were broken. Finances go downhill. Some of the lessons I learned from this experience. Sure, it hasn’t ended, and there will be more crying to expect. A lot of dragging days will continue to surpass one over another.  But I don’t lose hope. Because I know that friends will still be there to make me laugh. My TV, fridge and bed are not going anywhere. And maybe, just maybe, the One will stay and wait till I’m ready.

For everything that’s worth, I am now independent.

A Gay CAn Dream

I close my eyes, then I drift away, into the magic night I softly say. A silent prayer, like dreamers do, then I fall asleep to dream my dreams of you. – Roy Orbison

I’ve been having weird dreams lately. Funny thing is, every one of them has solid endings. I don’t get those cliché cliffhangers before waking up. Like how an entire TV show played its series finale without showing the credits. Like how an author finished a novel without an epilogue. I am in rage. I find it totally unfair not to give me a chance to make my own interpretation of my dreams, more so not being able to create my own endings.

But nothing is really fair, is it? Karma is only consequential to situations that already happened, to things that we already did. The real question still remains. After all the failed relationships, lost friendships, broken dreams. All the heartaches, the downhills and rock bottoms:

Do we deserve it?

You may make good life choices, at least you think they are. You enter into a relationship. You feel you deserve this person. Afterwards, you find yourself in unpleasant situations all the time. Why? Is it karma? No, it’s fate. Because even if you have a choice, it can and will be taken away from you. We're all fate's bitches. We might as well go ahead and bend over for destiny now.

It’s not even desperation. But when you find no answer, you lose hope. You feel like you're the only one in the world who's struggling, who's frustrated, unsatisfied, or barely getting by. It’s just but human nature to long for that piece of raylight who can help us. Who can remind us that it won’t always be this way.

Comparison is worst when you’re at the base of the wheel. You try to figure out for an explanation behind all the unjustice. If he can have a perfect life, why the fuck can’t you? Sometimes, there is nothing harder but be happy for somebody else’s happiness.

As a result, denial creeps into you. You deny that you’re jealous, you’re scared, and how badly you want your dreams to come true. The most terrible thing is when you deny that you’re in denial. You only see what you want to see and believe what you want to believe, and it works. You deny so much that you can't recognize the truth anymore.

It just does make no sense. Maybe that’s how it’s supposed to be. After all, feelings are unexplainable. They happen just to make you all confused. They drive you around for hours and then leave you right where you started, grasping for more questions.

So I dream. I wake up every day with list of dreams a mile long and maybe, I spend my life trying to make those dreams come true. Then again, the universe will get everything all screwed up. Chance, chaos, coincidence, and all that jazz. I can exert all effort but there’s no assurance I can get an inch closer to absolute happiness. At the end of the day, it all boils down to fate. And if I’m lucky, I mean if I’m the luckiest person on this entire planet, the ending for my dreams can be created by me.

Tu-mi-Trending

Looking back at the year that was, I’d say there were a few events worth remembering. So before all those TV networks compete for airtime to show their year-ender specials, I already have come up with a list of all the happenings and the non-happenings, the shakers and the breakers and; the life-changing stories of 2011 that somehow, I must admit, in one way or another, touched my heart. And P.S. this is in no order, whatsoever.

I. Angel’s Birth

Nothing can ever compare to the smile of a newly born baby. It’s the only zero percent chemical, non-carbonated, less-fattening, and anti-oxidant stress reliever ever created. My nephew was brought to us in such a perfect timing that everyone in the family are completely prepared and capable to handle such bundle of joy. Loving a baby is unrequited. You just love and you don’t expect anything in return. Which all adult relationships tend to lack in the area.

II. Escape to Puerto

Have you heard a joke but you couldn’t remember because you are just laughing so hard trying to at least recall it? That’s how I can recap this one helluva summer getaway. My friends and I were just like little kids playing in a big bathtub. Everything we do is just for fun. Everywhere we look, we find the funniest pranks. Sure the 3 day-2 night vacation ended, but the bond just got stronger. I may have separation anxiety, but this one is for keeps.

III. 365 days of Timeline

They say people change. Well, those people do not belong in my clique. ‘Cause we stay. No matter how difficult the odds are. This year is not all about me, but also to all those gossip-worthy friends I have. Dex gave an ultimatum to X. When X didn’t follow the rule, Dex put a period on their on-off relationship. Now, he is officially in a his-and-his matchy-matchy spoon and fork-ship. BF stayed in Middle East amidst all the war. Even though Benet got scared, he fought for their long-time commitment. He stayed faithful. And because of that, he now has a BB phone. Kirk finally found his One. But not after a lot of crying games. His hopes didn’t fail him. As for Vivas, he returned to us, location-wise. And oh, before I forget, he got devirginized. Ain’t all that deserve a cheers?!

IV. High-est Party

December has always been special to my heart. With my father working overseas, I always look forward to this month only because it means reunion. That has been my thinking since childhood. My birthday falling on the same season is just an icing on top of the most fabulous cake. There are no mixed reviews. Everyone agrees that this was the party of the year. I was put on the party pedestal. That I definitely set the bar so high in terms of celebrating birthdays. And that for me, is the biggest compliment.

V. Riding in roller-coaster-cars with Boys

The roller coaster of first dates, the time I spent making myself look hot in chatrooms and, the draining process of selections all in the hope that you might find the love of your life. It is tiring, mind you. I tried to go down the road of cliche’ness and flirted, had coffee, saw a movie. Also, I boldly went to the daring and had sex for the sake of sex only. But none of these placed me to the front row of happily ever after. I was left by the ride, almost have thrown up, but very much alive. Some were born to be a good lover. And a few, myself included, were probably born to be a good other... than a lover.

***

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” Charles Dickens hit it right in every aspect of the word. The year’s events will surely be remembered, but not the heaven that it brought to me. Heaven is being with family and friends who act like family. I may not be riding in a loveboat anytime soon, I’m sure I’ll be fine. I’m in a relationship with myself for 28 years, for Christ’s sake! And I will not dare cheat on it for anything.

The Crush, The Conflict, and The Cherky Lang

“Carrie: I do not pick the wrong guys. They pick me.
Miranda: So what, you're like a flystrip for dysfunctional men?
Carrie: Yeah, but one of those really pretty floral scented ones.”

--Sex and the City

I beg to disagree Ms. Bradshaw, but I think of myself otherwise. I’m more of an ambition than a trap. Quoting the New Age lingo: I am choosy. However awful the selections are, I still set standards. Egotistic much? Ah! Who am I kidding. Maybe Carrie’s right. Maybe I am that big of a magnet who repels guys I like and attracts the rest that are... what’s the term? Dysfunctional.

The Crush

I’m not talking about Atom Araullo. Yeah, he’s been my childhood dream of a boyfriend. There’s something about his intelligence that tingles my inner senses. But no can do. He’s as straight as a disco stick. So I had to come up with a replacement on the same industry. He may be one level below of him on every aspect but the charm, oh the charm, on this guy is just so palpable. It started online, chatting for 2 straight-kilig-to-death hours. We talked about our families, about our lives, about our education. But most of the chatting was focused on news and current events. After a while it got boring, ended, with me suddenly realizing, why didn’t he get my number? Maybe he thinks it’s too fast. Maybe he got intimidated with me, after all. Then it hit me, with no denial, implicit and plain: Maybe, he’s just not that into me.

The Conflict

Situation number 1 – Would you ever fall in love with your bestfriend’s ex? Harsh, right? But what if, the tides turn and you see the waves on you? Same situation but the characters play different roles. Enter Situation number 2: You had the most awful break-up with your boyfriend. You were vulnerable, that’s understandable, needs a shoulder to cry on. Apparently, this shoulder happens to be your ex-boyfriend’s bestfriend. Why was he there, you started to wonder. Why did he care, you couldn’t help but ponder. Now, the crying has gone and he’s still there. This time to make you smile. Impervious to humane emotion, your human heart started beating. Yet you’re afraid to check it, scared to know who is it beating for. Would you be decent to follow the social norm? Stop the beating heart? Granting that Stop is one direction that’s hard to follow.

The Cherky Lang

If only there’s one fuck buddy assigned to each person, then the world would be a happy place to live in. No kidding. That’s the premise. Now the conflict is when the buddy begins to ask for something more, say, a romantic relationship. Disaster, right! How hard would it be to just get hard and lie on top of me? Strings are not supposed to be attached and the only benefit you have as friends is to satisfy cravings for both libidos. Even Love is multiples pages away from Sex in the Webster’s dictionary, for Christ’s sake. Can’t a guy like me get an amazing sex-for-the-sake-of-sex only? Am I a shouting “Please love me!” kind-of-person during orgasms? So I stopped the buddy system. I cannot bear thinking that this guy pounding me restless, is also restless thinking of me as a boyfriend. I know, it’s not so General Patronage to say but I just don’t want him to expect more, from this sex and from me. I left, as horny as ever, and instead of a lay-down, I lay-low for a while.

***

I met guys. Some I attract. Others attract attention. And the rest are just goddamn attractive! To filter them all would be challenging, god forbid I don’t even know how to start the selection. The past few days taught me a thing or two about riding. I sit on a vehicle, searching for the destination. Having flair with the dramatics, I over-emote whenever the road gets bumpy. And who cares, if I reach the goal? Because for what it’s worth, drama or not, I have enjoyed every minute of it.

A Little Too Late

“At the end of yet another failed relationship... you have to wonder, what’s it all worth?” – Carrie Bradshaw

I have to admit, I never believed something could end even before it started. A hard realization that caught me offguard, entangling my inner core of wondering. Was I wrong? Was he? It doesn’t matter. What’s more important is the story that’s left behind. A tale, I daresay, worth telling.

Happy Pepé

He found me attractive in a pack of strangers. Honestly, I don’t consider myself unique-looking. But he thought of me as a fun-loving individual, full of life and energy. And when we talked, there were sparks, I have to say. So boom! Infatuation starts. We started dating. The cliché goes on... dinner and movies. Movies then dinner. And chocolates. Endless texting. Hugs and kisses. We were not official, but it feels like we were. How happy it is to consume love in all its simplicity! Oh did I mention “love”? Yes, I did. ‘Cause it’ll be a start of something struggling.

The Popoy-Basha Remake

Things have changed since the annunciation. What’s ironic is I never regretted saying it. It’s just what I feel. Problem is, he’s not happy anymore. There was a lot of talking. We argued, not for hate, but because we love each other. Conditions were laid out, thinking that compromising may be our best friend to solve this undeniable situation. I love the chase – it excites me. Makes me separate what is valuable from those that are trashy. However, this chase is different. You hope that the sun will come out after the storm, but deep inside, you know you’re in for a long rainy season.

A Little Too Late – not!

The sun peaked, for sure. But just for a moment. He didn’t let me suffer long enough before he made a decision. So it ended, just like that. Funny is, these all happened in two months. Felt like riding a rollercoaster on a whirlwind of romance, only to see yourself falling after the ride, singlehandedly. Everything was clear, except for his mind. Well, I couldn’t negate on that. For eight weeks I told him if he can wait, he agreed everytime. Sometimes, I question, if I had said the 3-word-8-letter a little earlier, would we still be together? Is the rollercoaster ride going to turn to a smooth-spaceship sailing to clouds of happiness? Or will the ride be as twice more bumpy and we end up hurt and deeply wounded?

Maybe the need for companionship is strong enough to overrule any other emotion. Life seems much blacker without someone to share it with. But living continues regardless, and I abide.