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Being mushy

Updated on February 14, 2011

 Yesterday, my wife and I celebrated my 6th year of enslavement.

Yep dude, I call it enslavement coz it was the day I surrendered my hard
earned freedom of living the fruitful life of bachelorhood. Allow me to digest.
It is fruitful because being a bachelor then gave me the chance to experience
life and at the same time, learn from it. (Such as no matter how much you earn,
always, the "bread" is not enough due to gimmicks and parties). It
was a hard earned freedom as it was bought by 17 years of my life from the
moment I was given birth to. Yep, that was how long I was able to convinced and
proved to my parents that I am responsible enough not to be given curfew!

And it is enslavement. Pure and simple enslavement! But a sweet and blissful
enslavement. I voluntarily ( excited pa nga!) surrendered that freedom when I
wore her ring and answered "I do!" to the question I barely heard she
was asking (for I was having then, at that precise moment, an out of body
experience, thus, blurring all what was happening, much what was being said,
during that said day called - the wedding).

The only thing I can remember was, how beautiful she is (note that the verb preceding
the pronoun is at present tense. Otherwise would mean i’m going to sleep down
in the floor for many nights). Well, indeed she was beautiful that day (and
until now to reiterate. dios mio!). Maybe, I was under a spell of
something….and that something is called (tantararan!) love.

So, let’s buckle down and talk about this frigging thing (Is it a thing?..No
it’s a plane!…no, it’s a bird! Its superman!) called l-o-v-e!

I’ve discovered this vocabulary when I was in high school. ‘Course, I
still don’t know what it was. Just a buddy of mine, one day, told me that the
girl in ponytail with a cute smile has a crush on me that I should also have a crush
on her( sort of a mandatory response, eh?), otherwise i’m a sissy. Not like to
be called as a sissy (who boy would like to, anyway?), I told him that, ok, therefore,
I have a crush on her too, only to find out the day after that, that I have
already a girlfriend.

Having a girlfriend during those days was not bad at all. at least, you have
someone to write in your notebooks during the checking of notebook (so just the
teacher can know whether you write those she wants you to copy in the
blackboard), someone to bring you a snack, and some one to be considered an
official date during the Prom. Then came the dreaded night. One full moon, I
was summoned by my official girlfriend at her house. The summon was written in
a paper which stinks of perfume and had some intricate designs of various sizes
of hearts (and of different colors that made my eyes crazy). And so were
sitting side by side at her rooftop (come to think of it, we were like
"aswang" bathing at the full moon light waiting for our wings to
sprout!), and she hold my hand, put her head on my shoulder and whispered
"I love you". I didn’t know how to answer, or much less, what to
answer. Do I have to say "I love you too"? but I was not even sure if
what I felt for her is love for our high school syllabus hasn’t yet covered
that subject. (like maybe, in the third grading period. hehehe). I can not even
comprehend the boy-love-girl thing concept of love. Yes, dude, I know how to
love like I love my tatay and nanay and brothers and my Lola, but the supposed
to be love between what? And so being practical, I choose silence over
muttering some stupid response.

After a minute of silence, she cried, pull out her hand from my palm and
walked down from the roof, went inside her room….and that was the last time
we talked (even at the graduation day!) when I asked my buddy what was wrong
with that scenario, he said that I am stupid than his dog, that I was supposed
to tell her I love her too, and that I was supposed to kissed and smooched her,
and have sex with her, and create babies and live happily ever after. WHAT! I
nearly fainted. (I was ok with the sex part, but not with the babies! I was not
even a voter yet!)

And so the next adventures of my pathetic romantic life will no longer be
covered in full here as I don’t think it really borders our topic here.

I next encountered the word in my philo class where my professor said that
the word love has a Spanish and Latin counter part "amor". There I
learned the philosophical meaning of the word which basically means "the
will towards another". So it was not really the heart that tells you when
you feel the "L" thing, it was actually the brain (so what happened
to my stupid brainless classmate, is he capable of love?) in a part called hypothalamus.
It’s the one that dictates what kind of chemical to release to your body so
that you will act strangely enough like my First official Girlfriend.

I’de also learned that there was supposed to be two kinds of it, the so
called "amor concopisentiae" and the other is "amor
benevolentiae". The first being a selfish love that in any and all
instances, you just want your object of affection to satisfy your happiness
that even the cost would be his/her suffering. What is important is that you
are happy. That if that object of affection is no longer capable of giving you
happiness, then you can just dispose it as it no longer satisfies your need for
him/her. (Ouch!)

The other one is the so-called benevolent love. In this kind, what is
important is not your happiness but the happiness of your object of affection.
That you will do everything just to make him/her happy even it would mean your
suffering. (Or even, your life baby!) This is the kind that even your object of
affection hurts you, and hurting you makes him/her happy, you will continuously
suffer the hurt and volunteer yourself to be hurt, just to make him/her happy.
(Yeah, right!). Because of the nature of this love, I called this love a stupid

Now all this theoretical discussion and academic debates regarding this thing,
I found out, does not make me more of a person when the thing hit me!

Yep boy! It did hit me…and it hit me the least I expected. And it hit me

When it did hit me, I was thinking to go in an asylum to figure my insane
self. Like a plague (during Moses time as written in the bible) it creep in the
night when I was asleep (damn, I forgot to paint my door with blood!) and hit
me without warning. Here are some symptoms:
1. can’t eat. Like I was always full. (Like there is a big
lump in your stomach!)
2. Less sleep. I can’t sleep that early coz I was always
thinking of her and just imagining her face and kissing her made me excited and
raise my pulse above the scale, thus, causing restlessness and sleeplessness. (Or
was it the coffee?)
3. Lack of focus. I was always dreaming about her. Whether I
am asleep or I am awake, I saw her face bewitching me with her smile. (Damn, those
big full lips of her!)
4. Make you insane. Constantly, I laugh and smile alone, by
myself. Which some people think I am crazy. I don’t know why but every joke,
corny or not, she had said or just remembering it made me laugh or brought me
on a fit of laughter. (See? Love is more potent than methamphetamine!)
5. It can destroy many pillows. Yep, for I always hug and
kiss my pillow, and even talking to it memorizing lines for my diskarte,
imagining the pillow it’s her. Result: the pillows were always wrecked! (For
the record, never had humped it! Am not some psycho dude!)
6. It makes you colorblind. Like when it hit me, everything
was colorful around me. the grass seems to be greener than usual, the sky bluer
than the usual, the flowers more colorful than usual, and yes, it makes you
hallucinate that even the ugly kalabasa flower became as beautiful and
magnificent as the orchids and as regale as the roses. (That’s why whoever
created the Wow Philippines TV advertisement broadcasting to the whole world
that the Philippines is more than the usual….is in love!)

7. It makes your muscle in the face twitch that there was a
permanent smile pasted in your face resulting for the overstretching of the
lips causing numbness and facial wrinkles. Indeed, I was always smiling that
even when I told my friend how his Lola died and everybody in their family
started crying, I was still smiling. T’was good though I was able to explain to
them that I suffered from bells’ palsy before they hacked me to death with a
samurai displayed in their living room.

8. I can see in the dark! My friend told me that there was
something that glows in my eyes. I answered that t’was the result of eating more
kalabasa. See, my dear Lolo said that eating kalabasa makes your eyes glows in
the dark! (Though it’s no truer than the duwende perch at the nuno sa punso)
9. It makes your pocket
bleeds. It’s because the flowers, chocolates, perfumes, stuffed toys and other knick
knacks are indeed costly. But you have to give it to her as the manifestation
of your eternal affection to her like a slave burning his fat lamb as an offer
to Gods during the Greek anthological times. (You can’t just ask her for a date
then bring her to Aling Pekwang’s lugawan and turo-turo.). And all the skills
in budgeting are put in naught whenever you’re with her.
10. It makes you kind to everybody. True boy! When you’re hit by that “L”
feeling, it seems the whole world is a much better place to live. It seems that
everything falls into places. You became capable to be kind to your enemies. You
learn to forgive. You learn to empathize, be kind, be courteous, be an idiot even, etc. It seems
that your heart can accommodate all the good character traits and feelings that
someone supposed to feel, Yep, name it and you’ll have it.

My priest told me that to be love and be love is a wonderful thing. Although,
to love means losing yourself. To love means hurting yourself. To love means sacrificing
yourself. To love means dying and giving your life up for others to live. It’s
big! And no one, he adds, is capable to love like that except the one
omnipotent, the True God Himself. And no one deserves that love except himself,
thus, he can only love himself. It is because of this that his love is
personified towards himself through His Son, Big JC, who is himself, too at the
same time. The outward expression and fruit of this Love is the Holy Spirit
which or who is the oneness of the True One God and Himself as personified By
His Son, JC. And that, ladies and Gentlemen, the mystery of the holy trinity. (I
know that was some theological explanations that tend to brought more questions
than answers. That’s why, my man, its called mystery. Because if you were able
to understand it, then it’s no longer a mystery. Got it?) Hey, I’m just blaberring again!

Anyways, so I grew up and became old. Meet my wife and hit by the symptoms enumerated above. She bewitched me. Kidnapped
me…..ok the two precedding sentences are just jokes. (Gee, I really might be sleeping at the floor
because of this idiot blog!). Seriously, ours is a friendship that grows and grows then
before you realized it, Bam! I was already proposing! (In that moment, I found
out that our Philo syllabus is already Jurassic!)

Unlike the movie, I did not stand down on my knees and give her a ring and
said, with matching glowing eyes, “Will you marry me?” Nope. It was already a passé
my friend. One day, I just woke up, went to the Civil registrar, ask for a
marriage permit, filled the husband side, signed it, let my parents sign it
too, then, went to her house, asked for a coffee, asked her to sit down, and
shove the paper to her face. Period. That was it. And poof, got a wife! Why complicate
matters when it is simple.

And so begin my enslavement. It was a sentence reclusion perpetua. But hey,
it was a sentence I will and am willing, again and again, to serve provided my
prison is her heart! (Correction: hypothalamus!). I love my prison life!

Take care! be happy! take a life!


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