the ex- factor

this afternoon i got an email from an old acquaintance. she wondered how my first boyfriend and i could still be friends. "it's good that his wife is understanding," she wrote. it took me a few seconds to digest it. i was more than halfway down her letter when i forced myself to re-read that part. i just couldn't believe it! jonathan -- the subject of her astonishment -- belongs to a past that is already almost two decades old. i was barely an adolescent then!

1) okay...so we were next-door-neighbors who grew up together in a small community where everybody knew everybody.

2) we were so identified with each other that people couldn't talk to him without mentioning my name and vice versa.

3) fine...fine...our folks (and their friends) did think we would end up marrying each other.

but so what? time moved on...and so did we.

why can't people understand that? luckily, if there is one person who truly believes that i have LOOOOONG been over him, it's jonathan. sure, for a while since we broke up we were not on speaking terms. i was bitter and resentful. yet through my self-imposed ordeal, jonathan steadfastly supported and prodded me on. i also guess he realized the time i finally let go of what we shared. we were home in the province then...so many, many moons before he got married.

me: "well, it was really my fault. i was so immature and self-centered back then. i am sorry."

him: "hey, it's okay. i guess, it was just the right love at the wrong time."

the years since then saw us reaching out to each other in times of trouble. he would reappear in my life whenever i was heart-broken. in return, i was an avid listener when he would talk about his problems.

so come on, anybody who paints our friendship with another color has a dirty mind; friends and family notwithstanding.

echoes

my friend shrieked, "he goes to japan every now and then!" as if japan is a tiny islet that i'd bump into anybody who decides to come. but for a second there i stalled.

he comes to japan. where in japan does not really matter. the fact is, we could be within the same timeline right now. we could be breathing the same air. we could be sharing the same season. in other words, my ex- and i may bump into each other!

of course, this is totally an exaggeration. japan is so big a country he may be in okinawa, or in hokkaido...even under the snows of niigata.

honestly, one of my fears is to accidentally meet him in one of the crowded train stations here in tokyo. I DON'T WANT TO BE CAUGHT OFF-GUARD...not when my hair is a mess, my clothes are askew, my face is pale, etc. it's extremely important for me to be cool, calm and collected when i finally meet him again. IF i meet him.

you see, our parting was really soap-operaish. he just disappeared. actually, he could not totally disappear because we run around the same circle of people...but we just drifted apart. no tearful goodbyes, no nothing. not even a mere mention of our turbulent past.

for years after we went our separate ways, we would be seen in gatherings making small talks, pretending that we're the best of buddies. it was almost always such a chore to be within his periphery. it's not, after all, effortless to plaster a trite smile all throughout the day for the public's sake.

not all memories are painful though. in fact, if i have to live my life anew, i'd still choose for him to be in it. never mind the mess. never even mind the pain.

we used to have wonderful times together. perhaps, as my friends would say, they were wonderful because ours was a kind of "illicit" relationship. no, he was not married. nor was i. it's just that there were problems we were never ready to confront. let's leave it at that.

our relationship was not "illicit" in a way that we never went out in public together. (we did. a lot. we loved going to the movies together and eating out.) it was "illicit" because we never admitted there was a relationship at all. besides, nobody dared to ask. so we went on with our lives pretending to be oblivious to the fact that maybe only the office of the philippine president had no idea about what was going on.

it was a beautiful relationship that was doomed right from the start. but hey, we were young and we craved for adventure. we would visit places i've never been to before. because of him, i developed a love for the unknown. we were reckless. we were having fun. we were happy.

best of all, i loved the way his brain worked. he was intelligent. some days, we would just relax in my living room talking about practically anything under the sun. he read newspapers from cover to cover; not a single detail was spared. he would read me poems and i would tell him stories from the books i read. and we would laugh. oh how we laughed!

but even then i knew the fun was going to eventually end. anything that wonderful was not bound to last. i thought that the five years we've spent together had taught me the art of letting go. i was wrong. it took me years to recover from the onslaught of emotions brought about by our parting.

our paths crossed again several times in the past but always in the company of others when there was no chance for recriminations. i dread the day we'll see each other in tokyo. he's one memory that is safer stashed away at the back of my brains.

i don't know how i'll be able to cope if things come crashing back to me. i hope i won't live to see the day. not in tokyo. not in manila. heck, not even in this lifetime.

blissful catatonia

if staring into empty space is a sin, i'd have long been ems-delivered with a pretty silver bow to hell. the last few weeks have seen me totally catatonic. except perhaps for watching old movies, i was basically a walking zombie.

oddly enough, i don't feel the need to be delivered from this pathetic state. i relish it. i revel in it. i wallow in it. in other words, i am totally enjoying it minus the nagging guilt.

it's not to say that there is NOTHING to do. god! there are millions of things to accomplish. let's see...there's the mountain of dirty clothes i have accumulated since last week that is begging to be dragged to the washing machine, the unanswered letters of my friends, the unpaid bills of last month, and my mid term paper which is gathering dust on top of my computer table. what thesis proposal? ahhh...uhmmm...yeah, that too.

a self-confessed OC, i have even stopped putting things in their proper places. i go inside my room, lie down, stare at the ceiling, smile...and sleep. pretty prolific, huh?

my brain just refuses to function. it's not permissible!

oooppppsssss, excuse me. it's already 11pm and it's time for ceiling-staring once more.

getting hitched!

once i actually loved this phrase. it sounded...well, it sounded quite...interesting. sort of different. not different in a romantic sense but different in a nonchalant manner. like getting married just because.

today, it sounds rather ominous. and scary. who wants to get hitched anyway? everybody wants to get married...to tie the knot....errr...get married. that's it! tying the knot likewise sounds like tying my hair. it just doesn't fit.

wait...before i digress so much further into verbal dissection, i'll tell you the reason why i am writing this piece. for one, i have been looking for a pair of attractive shoes that i can use for my friend's -- joy -- wedding this same month next year. so okay, it's still so far ahead. but hey, time flies so fast.

second, my cousin just wrote the name of my boyfriend on the screen of my yahoo messenger. as i opened my computer, i suddenly got this nauseating feeling that she was trying to convey an important coded message. look, my parents have been talking about grandchildren, baby clothes, stuff, etc. i have probably looked too smug about my current civil status, it got them worried. not once in my life have i mentioned getting married. perhaps for lack of right description, there was a time when i felt my father was literally pushing me to say "i do" to...just anybody.

it's not that i don't want to get married yet. it concerns more on the question: to whom will i get married to? yikes! there! my boyfriend is out of the question because he's just...a boyfriend. i mean, helloooo...i've lived long enough in this world to know the basic differences between a boyfriend and a husband. i know...i know this may sound unfair but, really, i just feel that he is not the person i'd like to spend the rest of my life with. (eeeekkkkkkk!!!!!)

then what the heck am i doing, sticking it out with him all these years? good question. it's the same question i've been asking myself. come on, if i know the answer, then we've probably parted ways long before i am writing this now. that's how crazy my life is.

get married???? sure...but somebody please do my thesis first!

Of helicopter rides and memories

It has been quite some time now since I have last seen him; years even since I’ve worked with him. Yet, the wisdom he has imparted me continues to echo and reverberate in my mind.

He came to NFA when I was already halfway jaded with my routine. A self-confessed vagabond who could not forever sit in one place without turning violet with boredom, I was on the verge of professional breakdown.

The day I was told that somebody young has taken over the helm of NFA, I just shrugged my shoulders taking it for granted that the new boss was another politician. (I did not even bother to read his photocopied bio-data which was circulated in the office.) Needless to say, I always have this unexplained negative feeling towards the idea of politicians taking over the agency’s top post.

A few days passed and the brand new boss tasked our department to take a pro-active role in information dissemination -- happy news for me. My boring days were over, and I need not resign.

However, the first time he and I really worked together was on a trip to Iloilo -- his second provincial sortie since assuming his new post. I flew ahead of him to take care of the local media which he was scheduled to meet. When he arrived at our regional office, he was given a warm welcome. Co-workers ecstatically gathered around him; perhaps wondering what changes he would bring about in the agency. Suddenly, he saw me and asked, “Aren't you from the central office?”

It was the start of a working relationship that somehow changed my perspective about public service.

Being single with no responsibilities except to myself, I was tasked by my department to be at his beck and call. I liked this new role. This goes without saying that I also loved field work, something that the others in the office did not really relish. I would be in the middle of editing some paperwork and my immediate supervisor would tell me, “You need to go to Isabela tomorrow.” Without batting an eyelash to ask why, I’d readily say “Sure!”

The downside of my new assignment was whenever there was a problem, the new boss had complete access to my mobile phone and he could call me in the middle of the night to say, “You need to go to the office tomorrow. I want you to go over some newspaper files.” What could I say? Tomorrow was a Sunday but for somebody connected with our office, Sunday was not always a rest day.

As months went by, I got accustomed to working with him. I lived on erratic working hours and overnight trips to god-knows-where-the controversy was brewing and waiting to explode.

On the lighter side, one of the most amusing – though trivial -- aspects of my work then was when people would come to me to remark how young and good-looking he was and I would be expected to contribute something in return. Often than not, I’d be left nodding and smiling. It was not surprising too to see women scrambling to have their pictures taken with him. Sometimes, in the middle of it all, I would wonder if they were listening to him talk or were simply swooning. I teased him endlessly about this but he would only smile. Eventually, as we got to know him better, we all learned to look beyond the handsome face to admire the principled character beneath.

Looking back, more than being hard-working, I admired my former boss’ integrity. So many times, during lull hours of our provincial trips, he’d tell me how frustrated he was about certain things in the bureaucracy. He hated politics and was not one to cater to political favors. He paid dearly for this.

The most fun part of working closely with him was I was able to experience my first helicopter ride. The NFA’s ever reliable ‘copter – no matter how old it is now – has become the silent witness when I nagged him to edit the speeches and messages I wrote on behalf of him. Too, it witnessed the exhaustion he would feel after every provincial foray when he would be forced to take catnaps to re-charge his energy. And as he was about to bid the agency goodbye more than a year later, that same helicopter endured the sadness and gloom that he may had been feeling then.

On a more personal level, he was instrumental in mellowing my ferocious character. Several times, he became media’s punching bag. To those who knew him well, the attacks were baseless and, often, below the belt. It was easy to answer back to straighten things out, but he would refrain us from defending him. He said any defensive action would only dignify intrigues and it was something that he did not want to happen. Besides, I knew that there was no fair way to overtly fight an ingrained system that was trying to swallow him whole.

Towards the end of his stint in the office, the media continued to throw mud at him. He never fought back publicly. He did not want to. It was terribly frustrating. He would tell me that it was hurting him but he has learned to deal with it early on. Sleepless nights upon sleepless nights visited him. I knew this because more often than not, he would send me uplifting messages that, I knew even then, were more for himself than for anybody else.

A deeply religious person, he would often remind me to put my faith in God. When I became angry with the system, he just laughed at me and advised me to develop my potential to its fullest. Instead of wallowing in despair and anger, he said, I should focus on the positive aspects of life.

When he left us to work for another -- albeit less controversial -- government institution, many of us shed tears. He was a well-loved boss and even up to now, he is still well-respected.

Gradually, I learned to understand why he left, but understanding did not make his leaving any less distressing. It all the more opened my eyes to the stark reality that, indeed, in this kind of public service honesty may not always be the best policy and political savvy ranks higher than integrity and hard work. Looking back I concede that, indeed, he would not thrive in an agency where political wheeling and dealing is the perennial name of the game.

Today, I am happily following his advice about working hard to fully develop my potential. Several months after he left, I was granted a scholarship to earn a master’s degree in a foreign university. As I learn to flap my wings anew, I will always remember the boyish grin and the nuggets of wisdom that made me dream the kind of dreams that I have today.For all that he was and for all that he inspired me to be, there is no better way to express my gratitude to Atty. Anthony Robert A. Abad than to try to follow in his footsteps – integrity and hard work in the name of true public service.