Baseline Information On How I Fell in Love. Analysis Included.

(A.K.A         And I Couldn’t Be Happier ?
A.K.A           Isa Akong Api, Ako’y isang Api-Apihan: Akin Na Nga ‘Yang Balance Sheet)
Manila:2005 — I had been waking up early for many weeks. My life was taking a happy turn because I was due for Paris <2006> and I was finally driving a car alone without any supervision. I was becoming a good driver, my book business was in a bustle and there was a man making me wake up for life <earliest as possible> every morning. For many weeks. 4 1/2 weeks. That is plenty to be just many.
I would take long morning baths and dress up pretty for my office. I was taking very good care of myself and eating breakfast! <Surprise. Surprise> I would pick up a book each day while drinking my morning coffee; take down quotes to send to Mr. Man  via SMS before finally peering at my pet cat Luc in his cage,closing all lights and heading to my car.
"Such a glorious feeling
I’m happy again."
My heart was singing and impervious to the lack of rain. Knowing that this kind of behavior would prompt my Mama to comment, " Cess, why are you acting suspiciously?". If you must sing, wait for it to rain. My Ma’s philosophy when it comes to the matter of just when to burst into song.
On the last night of the said 4 1/2 weeks, Mr. Man sends me a letter signed like this:
love ~ <his name>
For the first time in almost 4 years, someone after the EX signs
love ~ <his name>
"And my heart skips, races a beat"
I am a Filipina and Filipino men don’t sign "love". They will sign "love" if he is married to the recepient of the letter or engaged to her. If he is a teenager and if he is writing to a relative.
Only my relatives sign letters using "love". Girl friends hardly do so. In fact, generally, grown men don’t even write letters. Stephen wrote me letters because we were a couple engaged to be married.
My Dearest Francess,
Blah blah blah
Love, Stephen.
Might you guess what became of me after reading Mr. Man’s —

love ~ <his name>
"Oh the train was so loaded
it nearly exploded
the poor girl would shake with alarm
He’d ne’er leave the girl
with the strawberry curls…"
I was trembling in near anticipation of my mother’s sweet "Yes." as I asked permision from her so that I could go to where Mr. Man was on my birthday.
It did not happen while we were waiting to cross that street, after all. That stop light had been an affirmation.
It happened as I pulled away from the letter in front of me. Sitting on the roll along chair, its wheels squeaking. Like many other girls before me who had found themselves in the same situation < my situation that night> there was no sweeter way or better way to speak for the contents of one’s heart than by these 3 words:
He loves me. He loves me. He loves me.
In the 3 years which followed the last night of those 4 1/2 weeks he was never able to intentionally destroy this story of mine. No meticulous letter, no meticulous yelling spree and none of the meticulous & spiteful shouting on the topic of
love ~ <his name>
 And he can no longer give me anything on the topic of
love ~ <his name>
Not after Much love & Yes, I do love you a little.
 I thank the Lord for Mr. G. Abad’s story. The one with, " You are somehow responsible for those who you say love to."

free hit counters

While typing this, I have been puking into a small pail. The tumor at the back of my neck is making itself felt again. Another one of those Bonamine riddled nights. Motion sickness medication being the best way to survive nights like this night.
To sleep and to rest is for later. I want to sit in this curious warmth for a little while longer. The warmth of knowing that there was, indeed, encouragement. Encouragement from him.  How I fell in love did come from him.
And almost all normal women know that Yes, I do love you a little only means that we love them more.
Having Yes, I do love you a little was a setback, certainly. You begin to wonder why
love ~ <his name>
 ever existed.



Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s