Tapping on My Window

borrowed from Dom08 of pinoyexchange.com

When I was a freshman in high school, our editor-in-chief asked us to submit poems as fillers for the magazine. I wasn't really much of a creative writer back then and didn't know what to write about. Meetings for the clubs were usually done during the last period on Wednesdays. After the meeting, I was picked up by the driver and headed for home.

borrowed from http://www.flickr.com/photos/menandrew/203689824/

It started to rain, and here in the Philippines, when that happens, expect heavy traffic. My van ended up in a jam under the Katipunan flyover, about to turn to Aurora Boulevard. Since I enjoy the relaxing sound of the rain on the roof of our cars, I was lost in my thoughts oblivious to the horrible traffic outside (one of the reasons why I would always rather let the driver do the driving up until now). I was roused from daydreaming, or rain-dreaming, by a soft tapping on the window of the van. I looked out and I saw a little girl begging for coins in the middle of the rain.

My parents always told me not to give to beggars as doing so would not really help uplift them from their situation and I always listened not thinking that there will come a point when I will start debating whether to do so or not. There was something about this particular little girl, standing barefoot in greasy clothes, wet from the rain, outside of the van. Perhaps it was the fact that I was seated comfortably in the captain-seat, dry and cozy, actually enjoying the reverie I was getting out of the rain only to realize that inches away from me, separated by a thin, lightly tinted glass, was a totally different world. Coming face to face with poverty like that stops you in your tracks.

I had lived in a world where we were shielded from this. My classmates in school perhaps never even bothered to look out of their driver-driven cars, vans, and SUVs. But now, one of us, was faced with what is supposed to be a reality.

When I got home, I wrote a poem about that situation, and what I felt. It was titled Tapping on My Window. Mindlessly, I forgot about the poem after it was submitted to my editor. When the first issue of the magazine came out, I was surprised that the poem was placed on the back cover with an image of a little boy reaching out his open palm asking for alms. I was a freshman, and it was a big deal to have my name plastered at the back of the high school magazine. That launched my career in Hilites. I eventually became editor-in-chief when I was a Senior.

Looking back now, I never really thanked that little girl who started this for me. I could have just been another random writer in a magazine. I would've gotten bored and eventually transferred to a different organization. But the discovery that I could write came about because I woke up, looked out, and saw her.

Ever since then, I would always have a soft spot for little girls begging on the streets. I would always pity them, which is horrible. I would always end up comparing them to my little sister, my only sister. She's our youngest, the little princess, and she gets whatever she wants. After all, girls are made of sugar and spice and everything nice. How come some are not given what they want then? How come some resort to begging, staying as late an ungodly hour as possible for coins?

I had a recent brash with them. My boyfriend and I were in the Ortigas area, on our way home to Makati. We were stuck in traffic under the Shaw flyover, turning right to EDSA. I usually am the one driving, but I was so exhausted he had to take the wheel. I looked out and saw a girl holding a baby, possible hers, begging for coins. I almost cried. I tried to keep it in, but my boyfriend saw me. I told him, I have to give them something. Hurriedly, he looked around for random coins inside the Montero and handed these over to me.

I opened the window, and placed the coins on the baby's palm. The girl said thank you.

This was the first time someone like her had said thank you. The gratitude that I was one of the few who opened my window.

What's my point? We all have to know how to look back. I always look back at the journey that I went through to get to where I am right now. I don't think I'm all that, or that I'm perfect, and there are several things that I have regretted along the way. What's important is not to lose sight of where you started.

The bitch I was ranting about last week, doesn't know how to look back. She thinks she's perfect. Only a dumb person will think that she is perfect. She will wake up one day and realize that she doesn't have anything or anyone, because of her ugali.

8th Monthsary

borrowed from a post in Pinoy Exchange

I was woken up today by my boyfriend who had greeted me happy 8th monthsary. Seriously, I am bad with dates, and I totally forgot about our monthsary. I now realize that's why he was asking me to make plans last night for tonight's dinner. I was thinking, why make plans? It's not like there's a special occasion. As it turns out, there is.

I used to be good with dates. I'd know when a birthday, anniversary, or what-not was dated. I really had to think back when I started slipping with dates.

Contrary to how others would perceive me, I had my first boyfriend after I graduated from college. I wasn't really the type that I wanted to study first and in order to concentrate on doing so had to put a lovelife or a semblance thereof in the backseat. Contrary to that, I was too picky. There were guys in school who would make me ligaw, but I would say no to them, for the smallest of flaws that I would see in them.

There was a guy who made me ligaw from the department of Mechanical Engineering in the College of Engineering. He was hot, around 5'8", was a varsity swimmer, so his body was chiseled. He was a cross between Robin Padilla, and Wendell Ramos, and he drove a car, just a Toyota Corona, which didn't really fare well to the sports car I was driving at the time. I said no to him because although this chap graduated from San Beda High School, which although isn't as exclusive as my lineage in Ateneo, was still a fairly good all-boys school, he sounded like he grew up in the kanto of Tondo. I mean, it was so difficult to bring him to parties, because although he was eye candy, the moment he'd open his mouth, my friends, who were UP's elite back then, would just stop and stare, dumbstruck that such a beautiful doll had a weird provincial accent.

There was another boy, who was a year older than me in my college's department, and was very smart. He graduated Magna or Summa cum Laude, I forget which one. His body was pretty buffed at the time, and was very maputi, and he'd stand at around 5'9". He drove a Vios, which was kinda lame, and lived in the far-flung mountains of Bulacan. Last time I checked he recently joined one of those bikini contests. My problem with him, his teeth. They were crooked.

So I did not have a boyfriend in college, nope.

My first boyfriend was after college. He had actually been courting me for about 6 months before I said yes. He was introduced to me by an ex-high school classmate, and I say ex because he asked to be transferred out of our section. He was a Nursing student from UST, but I didn't take his school against him, because I fell in love. He was my first, and I was his first.

I was often staying over his place, and his mom really loved me. The mother knew me of course as the son's best friend. For all intensive purposes, let's call my first boyfriend Lou. Even though they lived in a ramshackle apartment in San Juan, I was always there, and I fell in love with his mom and little brother. The father worked in Brunei, but I did get to meet him also when he went home during the Christmas season we were together.

They were not well-off, so naturally, I would end up giving him really expensive gifts. I had just started working, and was able to put aside some cash for this PhP 30,000.00++ Sony Ericsson S700i I had been eye-ing.

borrowed from extragsm.com

When I realized he had an old beat up phone, I ended up buying him a Nokia 6260, which at that time cost around PhP 20,000.00.

borrowed from extragsm.com

They did not have a car.  So there was one time I bought a second hand car for PhP 25,000.00 for them to use. It was a Toyota Corona SE.

I ended up selling the car for PhP 35,000.00 because it was too much of a fixer-upper, and because he did not know how to drive.

For his birthday, since he was turning 21, I bought 21 gifts and distributed it to 20 of his classmates to give to him in sequential order. Each gift had a story, and the last gift would give the conclusion of the story, and I was going to give it to him in UST, after my work, personally. The story went:

Once upon a time, a little boy had a wish. He was told that only a certain powerful genie could grant him this wish. He went high and low, to the ends of the earth to look for this powerful genie so that his wish would be granted. 

When he found the genie, the genie asked what his wish was. The boy said, "I want to be brave and strong, so that I could protect the world."


The genie, perplexed, asked why a little boy would want such a responsibility. The genie persuaded the boy to ask for riches, and fame, as all the other little boys would usually hope for. 


The boy looked up to the genie, and with a tear rolling down his eye said, "Because Lou is my world."

Damn, I gave him all of me. I loved him with all of me, and I didn't leave anything for myself. I thought it was for keeps. I thought we were going to be together for the rest of our lives. Perhaps the reason I'm no longer mushy sweet is because he dried me up of my mushiness.

On our 8th monthsary, I sent him a text saying, "Do you love me?" I had sent this message for the past 7 monthsaries, and I felt it was my way of greeting him a happy monthsary.

He replied, "No, I don't love you anymore. Let's end this."

My first boyfriend broke up with me via a text message. I didn't know what had happened. I called him, but he wouldn't answer his phone. I went to his house, and the house was empty except for him. I went to his room and short of begging him not to let him go, asked him why. He couldn't give me an answer. We said our last goodbyes, and I left.

My world fell apart. You know the scene in One More Chance where Popoy would just stare, and remember a random thing, and start tearing up... that was me, before that damn movie came out.

borrowed from FTmovie.com

My officemates, whom all knew my boyfriend, would come to work and find me hiding underneath my desk, crying. I went to my boss, Anton, and asked for guidance, since he was gay also. He gave me good advice, told and taught me how to move on. He tried to help me out.

I was in Glorietta 4 with a good friend of mine from the office one day. We were shopping, to help me forget about the pain. I saw Anton and Lou walking, together, their hands clasped.

It dawned on me. Lou left me for Anton. The two, had been seeing each other behind my back. My boss, whom I considered a good friend helping me move on, had gone behind my back and slept with my boyfriend, and now they were together.

My friend saw my reaction and brought me to the Starbucks in front of the cinema. As soon as I sat down, I called Lou's mother and asked if Anton had been visiting Lou. She was glad to hear from me, and told me that she missed me, and that Anton had been introduced to her and had been to their house several times already.

My world stopped.

Then I did something that was unimaginable. I came out to Lou's mother. I told her that I was Lou's boyfriend. That Lou had broken up with me, because he was now sleeping with Anton. The mother cried. I thought she would get mad at me, but instead she said, sana ikaw na lang ang boyfriend ni Lou. Mahal kita. Ayoko si Anton. Isusumbong ko siya sa tatay niya. 

I heard when Lou's father came back that Christmas, he received a beating.

I was lucky. I lost a lot of weight, because I spent 5 hours in the gym everyday. I wasn't eating at home. Then one night, my mom went inside my room and asked what was going on with me. I told her I just wasn't feeling myself. She asked, "Is it because of your boyfriend? Did he break up with you? Bobo siya, pinakawalan ka pa niya."

Then my dad came in and asked, "Naghiwalay nga sila? Okay lang 'yun anak, marami pang iba diyan."

So they knew all along, I didn't have to come out to them.

I know they're still together. Lou's a nurse in Medical City, and Anton is a call center whatever in Makati. I see them around in Greenbelt. Of course, when they see me, I'm wearing designer clothes, and tote expensive cellphones, and usually have a lot of shopping bags with me. They both look like trash in their thrifted get-up and old cellphones (wala nang pambili ng bago.) I don't know if their lives have improved as much, but I am glad that they are still together. I helped bring them together. They owe it to me to still be together. Because I went through hell with the shit that they did to me, they sure might as well be worth it to each other. The bastards.

So there you have it. From now on, I will start remembering dates again. See you readers around, I still have to plan where to have dinner tonight, and pick up my boyfriend from his office after 7PM, the Montero's banned kasi.