lying, cheating fink

relationship gods have a way of playing tricks on you.

the months that you're single and looking and quite desperate, if i may say so myself, to find someone to settle down with, you're given nothing. it's a virtual man-drought. no crv guys, no pilots, no phone calls from friends asking you whether or not you're "still in a relationship". nothing. nada. zilch. kaput.

months later, someone comes along. you date, you hem and haw about commitment. you think and rethink your options. you wait a while, thinking, maybe someone might come along, like someone you dated for a while but turned cold on you or like your biggest crush. at the right time you say the crucial three words and keep your fingers crossed that he's the one. you spend an unreasonable amount of money sending sweet nothings and making marathon phone calls so that you'd keep in touch. you walk around with that dreamy look in your eyes. once in a while, when the going gets touch, you call a good friend and vent. you pray and hope and wish that in spite of all the obstacles and the difficulties that you've realized comes with being this particular person's girlfriend, you can work it out.

but then you're human. and immature. and stupid.

and you find yourself hanging out with the pilot.

on a saturday night.

in your favorite jeans. and favorite top. and sexy stilettos.

and you realized you've primped in front of the mirror more than usual.

you deny it's a date, well, just cause neither one of you said it was that. it just so happened that both of you had free time on your hands.

forget the fact that he crosses your mind every single time you read an airline case. forget the fact that you spent an hour of your friday night chatting with him on the phone. forget the fact that although you were starting to develop a fever saturday lunch you chose overmedication with biogesic than to cancel dinner plans. forget the fact that after you spent time together the both of you still spent five hours chatting on the phone.

he's just a friend, you tell yourself.

now you know that his favorite dessert is sans rival. his favorite color is blue and he wears eternity. he brings yakisoba on trips to the middle east and he can cook spam ten million different ways. he wants to transfer airlines, preferably singapore airlines. he unwraps chocnut and keeps them in a tupperware beside his bed. he'd want nothing more than hello panda strawberry and flat tops sent to him on a regular basis if and when he relocates. he loves crispy pata.

and he likes you.

and you like him back.

and he'll miss you, so much so that he dropped by last night.

and he called again when he got home.

once more you fell for the singsong tone he uses when chatting with you. you found it cute when he remembered about the bag you wanted from bangkok and asked you if you wanted him to find it for you. you fell for the fact that he asked what your favorite color was and that you both have a thing for school supplies.

thank god for the three weeks that he'll be gone. he promised he'd write letters, send them to his house and have the maid deliver them to your house, but then you doubt he'd do that. he promised to send SMS while he's away, but then you doubt that too.

either that or you're trying to convince yourself that it was just a crazy weekend. you were lonely. you hated the fact that your boyfriend couldn't understand why you were depressed over the untimely death of your best friend and didn't make time to go with you to see him one last time. you felt frustrated over his repeated comments on the way you dressed, walked, drove, and every single thing about your life.

still, for 48 or so hours, you were a lying, cheating fink.

and that stinks.

things remembered

gin blossoms and "as long as it matters". ketchup fries. road trip to tagaytay. the blue-green corolla. you letting me drive your car even if i was hardly able to drive. long conversations on tuesday nights. my exes hating you. your exes hating me back. a really bad pirated copy of dos ekis. beeper 150. flat tops. summer at taal when the dog barked in the middle of the night. chess games. basketball and 21. a single pink rose for every single time i got depressed. tuesday nights. that webby flesh between my fingers. deciding not to. sharing the same last name. when we tried and when we let go. promising to be best friends. 160 kph at skyway. algeciras st. one burgundy place. long distance calls. everyone believing you were mayabang.

i don't have pictures of us together. i don't have your cards and letters anymore. i don't have anything to remind me of the 14 years of friendship, except for your rotc medal which you made me keep.

it's still there in my bedside drawer. when i go home this weekend i'll see it again. i'd get to feel its cold metal against my fingertips. the gold has turned a bit rusty now, but i remember how you were so proud of it. you told me to keep it until the day comes that you ask for it.

we'll see each other again this saturday, my best bud. i'll bring it with me and i'll show it to you, how i never forgot our promises. i hope i can show it to your mom and dad, to cheche, cedric, chaycee, and chico, and tell them that they had all the reasons in the world to be proud of you. i hope i can pin it on your shirt and tell you that the time has come for me to give it back to you.

goodbye

people aren't supposed to die young. they're supposed to fall in love, get married, have kids, fulfill their dreams, and then pass away.

friends aren't supposed to die. not now, not at this age.

i'm mad. i'm mad cause you left without saying goodbye. you just told me you were on your way home. how could i have known that home meant somewhere where i couldn't even call you, or send you SMS?

i'm mad cause you gave up. you gave up when things got rough. you gave up when things stopped going your way.

i'm mad cause you chose the easy way out.

i'm going to miss you. i just wish you didn't go away so soon.

i don't want world peace on my birthday.

i want chocolate cake with boiled white icing.

i want to sit in quick pick and have rocky road ice cream with vanessa.

i want to stand outside mini stop with leuts and contemplate on setting up a franchise while he smokes and i eat my favorite ice cream.

i want to drive off somewhere with my brother while having one of our amazing conversations.

i want to hie off to the washroom with rosan and listen to piped in music while contemplating on rebonding our hair.

i want to get on-line and chat with my mom and tell her all about the guy who rocks my world these days.

i want a call from my dad.

i want to call all of my students -- especially those who've made a difference in my life -- and tell them they've made the last five years worth it.

i want ten minutes each with my favorite bloggers and tell them how they've made each day a bit brighter just because they've shared part of their lives on-line.

i want to wake up late, take a bath with warm water, drive to work with zero traffic, and have a non-eventful workday.

i want to be called on to recite in admin and shock the professor with my insights on judicial review.

i want lapid's chicharon and bee cheng hiang and pepsi blue and grasshopper mint pie.

i want spike washed, waxed, and vacuumed. please wash the white seatcovers while you're at it.

i want bacon for breakfast.

i want sisig for lunch.

unfortunately, none of those things are going to happen tomorrow. i've got a school visit that starts at seven, a class from 1:30 to 4:30 p.m., and admin till 7:30. it's going to be a long day.

so i guess world peace will have to do, this year.