Four days from now and I’ll be having a dinner at a Japanese restaurant, together with my single friends, pathetically glorifying our singlehood in the best possible way, on Valentine’s Day. We’re quite a confident and brave group of unmarried individuals, each having a very unique singlehood- each has a different story to tell and a different philosophy and perspective on why he or she is still single.
My version is- I am still on a journey that is slowly unravelling as time goes by, and as I meet new people. Yes, I have considered the fact that I maybe a loser. Or maybe I am just ugly and fat. And perhaps it’s all of the above. But I am convinced of one thing, I’m still on that journey and I still have to reach my destination, in that place called love. Cheesy! Chos!
But through the years, I have found quite a few things that have changed my mind and my life so much.
On my journey, I found Infatuation. Back then, when I was younger, I was a boy. Or I thought I was a real boy. That was the time when I fell insanely attracted to a girl- tall, pretty, and smart. For a moment in my life, my strong conviction of being a flawless glittering gay queen was shaken when I met Ms. Infatuation. I breathed out a hallelujah, thinking that there might be a chance that I am just confused and that I am really straight.
I believe we liked each other. And I thought we had a mutual understanding. And that was the big mistake- there was no M.U., no mutual understanding, it was Mag-isang Umiibig, after all. And indeed, it was the bliss of the moment. I wasn’t in love. I was just amazed at this girl.
Ms. Infatuation went away and it made me upset- first, because she left me, second because when I saw her new boyfriend, I wanted him for myself. My hopes of being probably straight stopped there actually.
Time went by and I learned what Truth really meant. In a community of faithful Christians who champion family values, and strong and lasting husband-wife relationship, it was impressed upon me that holy living in spirit and in truth requires me to find a suitable match; a suitable female (and I have to stress that) partner in life.
As a closet queen, I really don’t find it difficult to find a girl. I find it really absurd and funny that I like dating girls and find no difficulty to date a girl, but I can’t even make one step closer to a guy that I really like.
So I had a girlfriend. It was perfect. We have different character and personalities but we could work it out. Two years in a smooth relationship. Our families were absolutely in agreement and approve the match. The community of the holy and faithful uphold and approve the match. I was expected to propose any time soon. And then it hit me- I am going to build a life with this nice girl who loves me and is willing to sacrifice everything for me, and once I am married, in the eyes of God, I would be staying with her for the rest of my life until I die. I asked myself do I truly love her?
I realized that a life of holiness and truth doesn’t mean living the conventional life, a life that is generally approved by society. Marrying her would be approved by society, but it is a sham, a marriage for convenience, a travesty of truth and holy living. Above all, she doesn’t deserve to live a lie. I broke off our relationship, for her sake. She was devastated, but it was better that way than live a life with a husband who doesn’t really love her.
After that episode of dating girls or being in a relationship with humans with vaginas, I was finally convinced that I was gay. Not confused. Not bisexual. I am a screaming-queen, glittery, dick-sucking, insatiable bottom-bitch G-A-Y.
My First Love made me realize that. And yes, this is the never-ending story of my First Love, the guy I fell insanely in love with for more than ten years- my Best Friend. It was him all along. He was the reason why I broke off with my girlfriend. And for more than ten years he doesn’t know. And for more than a decade, I’ve been living like a fool. I just realized that First Love never really dies. If it dies, it dies really slowly but with a fight.
I realized that since I came out (which is not long ago), I wasn’t really serious about looking for a man, because of my First Love. I had to convince myself that it was a hopeless case, that he will never love me the way I madly loved him.
I can confidently say that I have moved on now. I still love him as a friend and brother (or sister). I still remember those feelings and the sleepless summer nights when I thought of him. But he is now just the man I used to love.
I am okay being single. My trouble is that I got so used to it that I might find being in a relationship too difficult or find living with another guy under one roof too fastidious. But there are moments that I wish I could share a delicious dessert with someone, or see pictures on the wall of me and my beloved, and maybe even with our three children. I don’t need random fucks. I don’t even like the idea of sleeping around. I would like to have a husband.
So here I am, hoping to find love. I don’t consider myself a hopeless romantic. But I believe in fairytales, and that fairytales do come true. And I am probably under the influence of some deadly chemical or something else.
Now, if you please excuse me, I need to make reservations for an odd number of loveless people.