Even if ‘I love you’ had been exchanged a couple of times. It’s more comedic than romantic, with tinges of thrill and action. Like the night we had to speed out of your place because a friend was coming over, even if we were doing nothing at your place but talk and look at your family pictures the whole time. Besides, every time the tone of a conversation about us is just about to get serious and I sense your sensitive side (however frustratingly undersized that is) starting to surface, you revert to your usual heckling self who takes everything as a laughing matter.

It was fun, nevertheless. To quote you, more than friends, less than lovers. In my own words, two people, one being lonely, the other being a womanizer, who hit it off pretty well, and occasionally held hands and kissed. It’s not a very pretty picture for many because we were in our own relationships. I don’t know why the daredevil in me overshadowed my usual rational, over-analyzing self. As a friend said, for more than a week, I morphed into a completely different person. Maybe when you’re having such a terrific time, you just couldn’t care less if you’re screwing up.

Sometimes I can just sit and look back to the string of events that blurred by, and find myself with a smile, or laughing silently to myself. Sometimes, even a bit teary-eyed. Sometimes I’m tempted to think that we’ve only just begun, but the truth is—and we both know it—that we were through before we started.

I guess what I’m thankful for, if any, is that you never branded me as a plaything, or any other names you sometimes call your women. You made me feel as if I were your friend. And considering I liked preoccupying myself with the sorry state of my long-distance relationship, the way your stories about your family, your childhood, your adventures, and even your past “loves” whiled away my time and took my mind off my worries was nothing short of amazing.

Another thank you goes to how you kept your word to keep your hands off me, as much as you can help it. I guess you wouldn’t really know how I appreciated and respected you for that. Even simple comments like I’m not the kind you and your friends would bet on or that I’m different and you respected me means a lot.

I’m erasing all your text messages tonight. Yes, for some weird reason, I keep them in my inbox and re-read them whenever the thought that this is not right gnaws me. The gazillion times you said I love you should have been enough to convince me that there’s little truth in it, because I always believed that the easier you can just blurt it out, the less sincere it is. Instead, I make the things you say a reminder that this is not a one-way street, albeit a very dangerous one and somewhere we both shouldn’t be. That somehow, whatever each of us feels is requited by the other. After I delete them from my phone forever, I wish erasing the feelings would be half as easy.

Well, if there’s anything this taught me, it’s that sometimes going out of my comfort zone, and making myself vulnerable to possible hurt is not a crime. Sometimes, only by doing so can you really be happy. And I was. Even if along with that feeling always tagged along frustration, sadness and dread. Dread of getting too attached because it certainly is going to end. But it was good while it lasted, wasn’t it? I was happy. I know you were, too. I’ll even boldly claim that we were in love.

Even if people say that I’ve lost my senses by believing you, I’ll still trust my own judgment. I was given a glimpse of pieces of you alien to many. Sometimes, I think it’s unfair that all people ever remember about you is that you’re a heartless philanderer (although there are a few million cases that serve as basis for this). Or that you know nothing beyond raging hormones and satiating carnal cravings. Believe it or not, I saw goodness in you. Compassion. Even vulnerability. And yes, love. And as I’ve said a dozen times before, I always hold on to the good rather than the bad. The memories I’ll remember you by will be the good parts, and I’ll always have good things to say about you.

If the stars had been right, there could have been so much more. But since none of us is willing to take the risk, we’ll just have to leave it at this. I guess when things are just not meant to be, you feel it. The truth stares you in the face, and you have no other choice but to let go.

So what have I really been driving at that took me this long to say? I’m caught between goodbye and I love you. But I know letting go is the best choice. I had the time of my life with you. Although there were parts I hope I’d never have to go through again, the good parts will always outshine the rest. There will always be a million things to remind me of you. Your baby pictures. Calamares and our favorite videoke bar. Michael Buble and your old school music. Oh, I could go on and on.

I know it would take me a lifetime to forget you. But then again, why would I want to? Maybe I’ll just keep you tucked in a tiny part in my heart all yours so that I can always look back with a smile. I loved you. Maybe I still do. Perhaps I always will. Yes, the music will die down. But like your old favorite classics, I’m sure it will, for a long time, linger on in sweet refrains.



###############