We met in Batangas a few years ago. Since it was some kind of yuo-are-in- heaven-im- on hell situation I didn't expect anything to develop. Besides, I was recovering from a heartache at that time and finding another one was the last thing on my mind. So imagine my surprise when he turned out to be different. For one, he was simple---so unlike all the "others" that I know. For another, he was smart (so i thought). which is now a rare combination, if you ask me.
And so we met and hit it off at once. Our conversations were meaningful but fun; our chemistry palpable yet subtle. Of course, he never admitted that he liked me. He couldn't have. But at that time, it didn't matter. Being together was enough. Besides, I told myself that this is about love. And as Nora Ephron would say: any story about love begins with a certain amount of rationalization. So true to form, I did rationalize that our apparent differences notwithstanding, there was no reason why we couldn't end up together. After all, when it comes to matters of the heart, there is hope even for the most hopeless. And though I happen to know that Nora Ephron also said that unrequited love is such a bore, I was just too giddy to care. Of course, I wasn't bored. I was in love! Never mind if he never texted on special occasions or bothered to update me about his life. It was enough that he was there to make me feel good about myself when it mattered most. I was oblivious to his indifference, confident that in time, he'd find a way to express how he felt towards me.
Until last week.
I got sick and was rushed to the ER due to severe back pains which immobilized me for a couple of days. But when I told him about it, all I got was a perfunctory reply that was even more perfunctory than some of my officemates' reaction when I told them the same thing.
And if only for that, I stopped being in love.
I figured, I couldn't possibly stay in love with someone who doesn't care, never mind if he did care at one point and might eventually care in the future. I couldn't possibly stay in love with someone who doesn't even bother to check on me despite knowing my condition, even though he claims to remember me from time to time. I couldn't possibly stay in love with someone who isn't here now, even if in the future, he could be here again. Who was it who said that "the future and its possibilities provide cold comfort for a tired and broken heart"?
So I therefore conclude that unrequited love is not just a bore. It's worse than that. It's a non-story. In the end, it's just one person trying to make sense of something that's never meant to make any sense in the first place. It's one pathetic heart insisting that it is joined by another, only to discover that such other was never on board. It's what happens when you delude yourself into thinking that a good love story can still happen even when all your past experiences point to the contrary. It's two people who were never on the same page of the same chapter of the same book.
So I'm out of love and as my close friends would say: what's new? I've been out of love for almost a week now and though there had been relapses, I'm pretty proud of how I've carried on. I had coffee alone last night and felt nothing. And though I still palpitate at the sight of a blue uniform that looks exactly like his, I tell myself that even that is understandable. After all, love, though unrequited, takes time to heal. And that remains true even if it's your third unrequited love in the last five years.
No wonder I'm so bored.
no more you and me :(
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