The Big Crash
Here’s a pre-valentine post. I am all gushy and shitty as I type this entry. This is about the big crash. My big kahuna! Let’s just call him Dokie Oinkie.
We met at a Grand Eyeball Party of a certain channel in the mirc way way way back forever. Even though I was based in
From there, we would meet up, while I was in
We had to grab a cab when morning came. He had to go to the hospital for his medical internship at that time and the folks back at where I was staying might be wondering where I was already. He asked the cab to drop him off in front of the emergency entrance of the hospital. Sige na nga. It was at Cardinal Santos. He then asked the driver to wait a bit and asked me to walk him to the entrance. I got off, and walked him towards the entrance. I do not mind being predisposed to PDA’s and would gladly oblige a quick peck goodbye but nothing prepared me for what happened next. Right there, in the middle of everything, in plain sight, and in broad daylight, he grabbed my shoulders, squeezed me closer to him, and gave me one long, hot, passionate kiss goodbye. The world melted into oblivion. Up to this very date, this remains the sweetest most romantic thing anyone ever did for me, rivaled only by an ex who wrote a whole song for me.
In the course of the next few months, my heart swell and fell with hope and desperation. He got back with his toxic significant other, whom he was on a cool-off period when we met. His partner abuses him physically, and the distance between us was a big factor for the eventual failure of what ever there was between us. There were talks of him moving somewhere closer to where I was but that never materialized, and there was even a time when the partner would badger me and call me, pestering me with irate messages. Sadly, I was fighting a one-sided battle.
Over the years, we would lose contact and manage to find our way back to each other by strikes of luck or pure coincidence. No matter how long the intervening years, we would still manage to find a way to get back in contact, either by him stumbling upon me, me stumbling upon him, or a fortuitous event that would bring us back together in contact. It feels like I have known him half of my life even though the total number of hours we spent together may even be just enough for a whole day and some spill over hours. All these years, every single reconnection felt as intense and as sizzling as the one before. It’s as if the years in between simply faded away with every scorching touches and soul rending kisses every time we reconnect. It feels like that Ashton Kutcher movie. A lot like love. All this time we still carried the torch for each other. The relationships we both had in between never made the feeling go away. I must admit that I had loved more than what I felt for him or could ever even imagine or come close to. I had bigger tsunamis, and all are but vanishing embers, but that flame for him never wavered. It still blazes strong. He remains to be my big kahuna and me, his big crash!
This last time, I must admit that one consuming thought I carried with me to
I confirmed then that he still has this flame burning bright as well… It never went away. All this time I keep asking myself: If there is nothing to this, why would it simply not quit? Why would it still continue to haunt me? Why? Why for this very long is it still as vivid and alive as that first night when greater loves I had, given and received, are all but blurs? Why can’t we bring ourselves to accept that maybe, just maybe, this is home – that this is what’s meant to be? Why do we keep tempting fate and running our lucky draughts dry? He said I am someone he never had the strength to resist. I said I was also the one who was never enough for him to go for. I was always the other man, I said. I was always the better and finer man, he said. I was convenient I said. I was his big crash, he said. Once again, all these things come tumbling down, over and above my head, a dangerous tumultuous squall inside me.
If asked by people if we ever became us, I would answer no. It was never us. It was an affair. The reason is because, I never get back with my exes, not even remain friends with them. I cut clean with almost surgical precision and burn bridges – No somewhere down the road shit for me. At that, if it never was us, he never was an ex, and the rule does not apply to him. Inclusio unius est exclusio alterius. What is not included is excluded.
If asked by people if there was ever an ‘us’, he would say that there was never not an ‘us.’ There would always be an ‘us.’
And so it comes to this – MONDAY. As we both would have it, we would be meeting up on Monday. En route, we both said we missed each other at least three times, and the phone call we had ended in us trading ‘I Love You’s’ almost simultaneously. He made a promise. This time, he’s giving it up. The once denied entry is now a guarantee. NOW WHAT? Destiny beckons… perhaps… Monday!
SO There... Monday
But then again... Monday