Beautiful Stranger

(contributed to www.peyups.com. Back in 2003. Whoah, that's a long time already. As an indicator of time, there's so much I've been through since this experience. The point that I want to remind myself, however, is that things improve. Can I say, yaaaaak now? Hehehe).

You were, from the very beginning, a fantasy.

So much so that when I finally came face to face with you I couldn't speak. It was almost like having someone from a dream materialize before my eyes I couldn't tell if I was still dreaming or not.

I was stupid that night. I was uncharacteristically quiet. Pondering on the possible reasons why, I came up with some explanations: one, it was my first time to meet up with a guy for a "romantic" date. That made me uneasy about it -- that's why I brought "Matilda". Second, I didn't know if I liked you or not the moment I saw you. I looked at you from Matilda's back when you were busy texting, taking in as much detail as I could about this "sweet stranger".
I remember how your cheeks glowed in the light, and how your chinky eyes would, at times, grow big as though in glee. Your hair wasn't so bad as you said it was (because you were wearing gel?). Though we were of the same height, you were much bulkier; you have "fatter" fingers, mine were slimmer.

As I was doing this, I remember asking myself if you were worth a shot. And I think I said, "Probably." I didn't get physically attracted to you (no hard-ons, bloodrush, heart thumping) but thought you were okay nevertheless ("nice to look at" was how Matilda described you).

My resolve was no matter how you looked it didn't really matter because I liked your personality already. So I was imagining things would "probably" be all right.

But alas, you had another thing in mind.

I want to apologize (for the last time -- I don't want to act stupid again) for behaving the way I did the morning after.

Truth be told, I was hoping you'd text the moment we parted, because then that would mean something beautiful. But you didn't and that meant something else. That started my paranoia -- so I texted and texted and called. Turns out, I hadreason to be paranoid.

I have this penchant for turning my own fears into reality. Never fails. So far.

"We'll be better off as friends," you texted. If you really meant that, I hope so too. Pardon me if I said I had too many friends already -- that didn't mean anything, much less make any sense, because the truth is, I enjoyed your company and I think there's room for a new friend.

Hence, the invitation for coffee. And two other reasons for such: one is, that would help me bring the level (at least in my mind) of the "relationship" from "hopefully romantic" (which was the past) to "friendship". Second, I want to make up for my silence on the 20th. There is so much I want to ask you but I never got to asking. I want to listen to you tell me stories. Basically, hear you talk.

However, you declined my invitation. I still hope that you would reconsider.

Right now, reality is sinking in. It's like breaking up, I think. Eventually, after all this mourning, I have to move on.

I remember there was this sentence in the Christmas card I sent you: something like, "you showed me how i like to be loved," and you did, if only briefly.

I'm trying to think less of you. I practice putting on my contact lenses. The tiny pain is something tangible. It's as though it represents what i feel inside.

I'm half-awake.

You will stay as an idea both in my heart and in my mind; you are safe there; you are wonderful there. And forever, as you began, you will remain, a fantasy. Such wonderful fantasy, sweetest stranger (there is no other stranger I allow that close to me).

Though I (or we) might awaken from it, I am forever changed.