2018, when I cried in front of a church
WAIT. Let me rephrase that: I cried tearlessly inside my car, as it was parked in front of a church. (Let’s be precise, there’s a difference.) Of the many strange situations I’ve found myself in this year, this one’s probably the most cinematic:
There we were… One wistful night in March. A bumpy side street not too far away from the buzzing of Quezon City’s nightlife. I had parked the car on a random spot on the empty road. The street lamps barely lit the sidewalks. Their colorless glow cast a damper on the already dark night. I looked out the passenger window to find what seemed to be stained glass — biblical figures looking down on me as I tried to apologize to someone whose heart I broke with my carelessness.
That apology didn’t work. Not that I believe I committed a sin. We were just worlds apart, and my actions weren’t exactly comprehensible — and I didn’t expect them to be. After all, barely a month before that, I had just ended what I thought was shaping up to be something special…
THE EVE of Valentine’s. What started out as a cozy night turned into a somber conversation… one that ended with a final embrace. Did I expect it? Maybe. Deep in my heart, I knew something wasn’t right. In the last few weeks, I had felt us slipping through each other’s fingers. The passion in our kisses were now rushed. The care in our actions felt but simple politeness. What used to be intimacy felt perfunctory, as if the fire was gone. Lying there in bed, I needed to know if there was any warmth left.
Well, I got my answer… on the most fitting of nights. Ha! I mean, who goes into Valentine’s anticipating heartbreak?
I honestly believed we’d come out of it with some direction. We had been dating for four months, but we never talked about sealing the deal. Maybe we’d finally talk about commitment, I thought. Must have been Cupid’s doing. I wished it didn’t have to end, but some things need to, especially if it wasn’t going anywhere anymore — at least, not together.
When midnight came, we found each other on opposite sides of the doorway, separated by a wooden frame and soon by the space between our worlds. As the door shut, I swear, I thought I saw tears. I walked down that hallway one last time, thinking, at least I won’t be smelling of incense and Chinese medicine anymore. With every step, almost immediately, everything seemed foreign to me.
In the car, I called my best friends, asked if they were still out having a drink (they weren’t) and broke the news. I drove through Aurora Boulevard thinking I shouldn’t have been surprised. Happy Valentine’s, sucker.
A week later, after a few too many glasses of wine, I realized the one thing I knew coming out of that non-relationship was that I was actually ready to commit to something… to someone. After being in a lost state for most of 2017, those four months were a comfort. No longer was I disillusioned by the worries I couldn’t control. No longer was I melancholy for being left behind. No longer was I confused about what I wanted. That I had someone (sort of) to hold me down, I felt secure, so much so that I was finally ready to give my heart — if only I could have.
Now, I realized what I wanted: I wanted something I could call my own, somebody to love — for real this time because I was certain I had so much of it to give. So this year, I set out to find just that.
“You just need to put yourself out there,” I rallied myself.
“Put. Yourself. Out. There.”
Uh… do you know how difficult that is for someone with anxiety? No matter how extroverted I appear, I’m still just this lowly shy guy inside. So imagine me, trying to open up and genuinely meet someone new. Nine times. Nine times this year.
So yes, I’m quite exhausted.
I mean, take for instance, this one first date. On the checklist of things that stressed me out: we were going to meet in (a) a club with (b) friends on © a stormy night, where (d) I was stranded in the adjacent building without an umbrella and (e) my phone died. We (f) met up almost an hour later when I was actually waiting in the area almost an hour before. Also, did I mention meeting friends? Uninterested ones at that. Did I mention I’m socially anxious?
I made it work. Put yourself out there, right? In a literal and figurative storm, okay, sure!(?)
And it did work. Pretty well for a little bit… until it didn’t — as if the universe didn’t give me enough signs. I tried hard but it just didn’t end well — somehow derailed by preconceptions of who I should be and how I’m supposed to feel barely a month into dating. You can’t blame me if it wasn’t love at first sight, but you can’t tell me I didn’t give it my best. I got a birthday cake out of it, but there wasn’t any icing on top of that.
Neither was there on a couple more of them. I dated a few more times where chemistry was kind of absent, thinking, okay, this is probably just a slow start. It’s bound to get better, right? I’m carrying the whole conversation right now, but you’re going to get better at this, right? You’ve changed a lot from your photo, but I’m probably just being judgmental, right? We jive so well in person, but you’re really evasive… I’m not kidding myself, right? Oh, God.
I sincerely gave all of them a chance. Friends asked me how I managed through all that — why I kept going on unfulfilling dates, hoping on hopeless people. I told them I wasn’t one to give up on the first date. There are some things you just don’t see until you follow them through… whether that’s good or bad.
Take this instance where I met someone in a coffee shop. As spontaneous as that was, we hit it off amazingly well. We talked until midnight passed with nary a single yawn. Over some drive-through while parked on a quiet street, we discovered we had the same zodiac signs, the same upbringing, the same values. We actually joked it was meant to be. Finally, I thought. I thought.
A month went by, and I started doubting if the interest in me was genuine — whether the idea of me as a match seemed more attractive over actually getting to know me. I realized I was never able to share anything beyond what we already had in common. Nothing more about myself, nothing new, nothing deeper. Yet here I was, continuing to listen to all this conceit — too self-centered to genuinely care about me, the human being on the other side. I felt like a toy kept in a display box. Good to have and look at, but never to play with.
Ultimately, I realized, it was a negative. So there I was over one dinner date trying to start the let’s-stop-dating talk, awkwardly trying to plug it into a conversation I never had any control of. But I almost reconsidered, thinking that if I was at the very least asked how I was doing, how my day was, I’d give it a second chance. Three hours in, guess what happened? Of course. No dice. A friend of mine got a shout out over me… what even? Who are you dating — him or me?
I worry I have bad luck. Irresistible kisses and bad luck.
(I can brag on my own story, right?)
Don’t get me wrong. They weren’t all bad… if anything really, there were silver linings to all of them. I appreciate the late night conversations, talking principles, alternate realities, and family histories. I appreciate being brought to birthday parties and simple dinners, meeting warm friends and even family. I appreciate stolen kisses and cuddling under covers. And wow, all the new places I’ve been… from the hipster corners of Escolta to the aquariums of Ocean Park, from the pews of Baclaran Church to the middle of nowhere in Pandacan. There really were a couple of good moments.
And more than anything, I’ve learned a lot about how dating and relationships work — and about myself too. So if even for just that, I genuinely am grateful. I mean, I’ve never really dove into the dating world like this. Things just seemed to fall on my lap before. Now, I know what “putting yourself out there” means. It means a lot of trusting that the right person will come but not when you’re solitarily waiting from some lonely tower. It means allowing yourself to jump off the edge but being smart enough to break your own fall when it doesn’t work out. It means managing your expectations but allowing yourself to be blown away by the person in front of you.
I can say I’m a little tougher now, a little braver. This shy, anxious guy now knows how to go out into the world. I’ve learned I’m more than what I thought I was — or at least, I grew to be more. I used to only imagine being “out there,” but here I finally was, out in the fray, actually looking for love.
And also, I can proudly say I’ve never had a horrible first date. Call it charm, call it luck, but I call it making the most out of the moment. I never dress up to have a bad time. In fact, there were even some fantastic ones. While they clearly didn’t end up in anything,
I’m one to enjoy things for what they were in the moment.
Take for instance, this one night when we watched a UDD gig. It started out kind of awkward, as most things do. We drove around to find parking and ended up in a spot not too far away from The Collective. It would be my first time there that night. What could have been a romantic stroll to the venue was made gritty by the broken asphalt and unfinished concrete. But hopping over invisible sidewalks while getting to know one another was a charm of its own. We learned a little bit about each other — our small histories, music preferences, goals in life. It was lovely, actually.
The empty warehouse, old and broken down, had a certain allure to it. The moon shone over the skeletal roofing and cast shadows on the half-full crowd. Pink and green lights lit up dirty corners where people were drinking and dancing to the opening acts. Meanwhile, we found ourselves a spot near a closed storefront. Under the shade, we traded opinions. This band needs a bit of work… This girl’s actually pretty talented… We laughed as we sipped on Red Horse and rum Coke served by cute bartenders. I’d say it was like we came straight out of an indie movie, but down to the setting, I could say this already was an indie movie: Ang Nawawala, one of my favorites.
Maybe the memory seems sweeter because Armi Millare was scoring it live. I mean, if an angel were serenading you, how could it not be? We closed our eyes intently, as if it would make her words echo more clearly in our ears. Maybe the melodies weren’t all that optimistic, but that voice could melt hearts of stone.
“What’s your favorite UDD song?”
“Indak,” I replied.
“Yeah, that’s a good one. I like the Tower Sessions version.”
“Hey, yeah… When it first came out, I watched that video over and over just to note down the lyrics.”
“Really? Yeah! The lyrics were a little different then.”
(In hindsight, those lyrics turned out all too real.)
Or maybe it was memorable because I just felt comfortable being me. When I was much younger and haplessly inexperienced, I described myself as a hopeless romantic. I didn’t think I was still that guy until there I actually was… somehow extra charming, throwing moves and flirting, like who is he? And really, I was genuinely having fun. Awkward here and there, which is unavoidable. But no doubts, no insecurities. Just fun.
THAT MARCH NIGHT in front of the church, I confessed I was scared. The thought that the two of us were getting into something real got me cold feet. As much as I rallied myself to get out there and find that one fish, I was still afraid to dive into the trenches. Deep down, I was scarred. I wasn’t yet sure if I could give myself up to someone having just been led astray.
But at the same time, I confessed I was stupid because it had been too late when I realized something good was going on, and rather than grab onto it, I went and detached. I sought comfort in the arms of others, knowing that if I didn’t choose to commit, I could deny the growing existence of my emotions — of our emotions.
Stupid. Now, there were two broken hearts where there originally was only one.
Amid tears, we sat there in silence. After all was said and done, we knew we couldn’t go on after this. Although forgiveness would eventually come, the cross was too big a burden to carry into a relationship. Any penance I could promise just didn’t feel right for either of us. We were over before we even began. The realization rung sharply through the stillness.
I was given a word of advice though: “Give all your heart.” If I were going to get in there, I had to take a risk and just dive in. Don’t put yourself in the water half-heartedly. You’re going to sink and take everyone else with you.
“Give all your heart.”
The words reverberated in my head as I drove home that night, mourning what I had just lost.
It took me a few months and a couple of distractions to finally get to a better place. As you can see, I eventually did, and boy, did I try to make something of it… to no avail. By the end of the year, I was ready to throw in the towel when life sent in one more candidate — and wow, what a candidate. A plot twist, if you will.
You see, I started dating someone with really good potential — clicked from the very beginning, and that turned into a whirlwind romance neither of us could fathom. If anything really, we found a certain comfort in each other. And honestly, that was rare — I should know by now. I hadn’t felt that easy a connection with anyone in a long while… not with anyone else this year. So much so, my walls started coming down faster than I usually let it.
I was actually giving in to hope.
We spent an inordinate amount of time with each other. Insane, now that I think about it. Of all of them, I think the quieter moments were my favorites. I remember there was this one night I went to hang out for a little — this was early on when we had only just begun. I had some work to finish, but I needed some company. So I came over…
Wow, was that foolish. I couldn’t get my mind into the report — too distracted by that adorable bug-eyed face, that innocent smile just inches away from me. It isn’t easy refusing someone begging for affection, especially when you want it too. I ended up rushing my paper just to cuddle up in bed. (I still finished it. I’m practical.)
Have you ever gotten that feeling where you knew something was just right? Without any context but without any doubt, your gut just tells you, this is right. That was it. That was the moment. It was never true for me any other time before that. Laying there in each other’s arms felt right. It felt like coming back to this warmth you know so well. It felt like finally being safe amid all the chaos. It felt like home. As the stars shone through the balcony window, we drifted off to sleep, which for the both of us had been so difficult the last few months. It seems that was all we needed.
Sometimes, however, things don’t go the way you want them to. Even if you want to stay hopeful, you have to deal with reality.
The thing is, I knew it was going to be trouble. Call it fear. Call it intuition. Call it the less than ideal circumstances that brought us together. But even then, there are things you just need to see through, praying your doubts are proven wrong.
See, I was in the same boat as I was earlier in the year… But this time, I was the one who found someone fresh off a break-up. And I, of all people, should’ve known that when someone isn’t ready, you can’t expect them to be. For as much space as I was willing to make, it wouldn’t be enough.
It went pretty well for a month — the honeymoon stage, if you could call it that. Then, some deeds went down, and I was suddenly left in the dark — which is probably the cruelest form of torture for an anxious guy. No conversations, no explanations, just vague messages saying, “I need to be alone.” I didn’t understand what had just happened, what was going on, or where this was going to lead.
It took me a rough few days of anxiety to realize I shouldn’t hold myself up to the potentials of a connection if the present made me want to throw up all the time. I deserved better than this, but I knew betterwasn’t ready for me. So I drove on over ready for an ending. And just as when the year started, I was yet again behind another door, yearning for an embrace to last for just a moment more. That was the real plot twist of 2018.
That same night, I found myself on Cloud Nine.
As in Cloud Nine, Antipolo.
At the tail end of the year — the 26th of December — I was standing at another dead end, and thought, I need a break. I Googled “manila skyline view” and set Waze to the mountains to the east. Luckily enough, Marcos Highway was practically empty, so I sped through it with Mitski’s “Nobody” blasting through my speakers.
“And I know no one will save me.
I just need someone to kiss.
Give me one good honest kiss.
And I’ll be all right.”
I arrived to screams coming from this hanging bridge I eventually had to climb. As I was crossing up, I thought this was my chance to shout it all out, but waiting there in between groups of strangers, uhh… nevermind. I just wanted to get up to the viewing tower. The (literal) suspense was made worse by a couple of unruly kids who paused the line to take some blasted selfies. We’re dangling mid-air — just walk, for heaven’s sake.
The view from above was breathtaking — exactly what I needed. A dust of lights blown away and sprinkled as far as they could go. Towering buildings now ever so tiny. Vast stretches of land hidden in the darkness. You take it all in as the cold air embraced you and told you, it’s going to be all right. Soon enough. You just need to breathe.
There were padlocks on the fences — the typical romantic gesture of couples locking themselves to each other. Not the most picturesque tower to do it on but, fine, cute. Actually, I wished I had a padlock. As cheesy as it sounds, I wanted to lock one for myself, to promise I’d treat myself better.
2018 was a ride. I don’t think I would’ve imagined myself to be this person the year before. Truly, it was growth. It was exploring what I was capable of handling and how far I could go. Nothing was easy, I’ll tell you that. A lot of growing pains, actually. A lot of disappointment and heartache. Nine times. Nine times this year. But it was worth it… at least I’m hoping it is.
Do I have regrets? Some, but nothing I can’t live with. If anything, I’m grateful for all the good and all the bad, the joys and the mistakes. Am I exhausted? Hell yeah! So I’m going to come out of the water and breathe for a bit. Pick myself up first before I dive in again.
