[cue music]

Are you gonna stay with the one who loves you
Or are you goin’ back to the one you love?

Catching the ~45-minute ride from the office to the city gives you a lot of time to stare off and reminisce (and to try not looking at the guy dozing off across from you in the train). The other day, I got to think of one of our favorite ways to kill time during GS/HS — taking turns to pose and answer this-or-that questions to amuse our juvenile selves. The question, ‘Taong mahal mo, o taong mahal ka?’ was right up there with ‘Walang kamay o walang paa?’ and my favorite, ‘Tadtad ng maliliit na tagyawat, o isang malaking tagyawat sa ilong?’. You know, matters of life and death.

Back then, my answer would always be delivered consistently and with 100% confidence — taong mahal ko, siyempre. I remember being baffled why others would think of choosing otherwise, yet they seemed to be so sure as well.

But fast-forward to a few years ahead, I find that whenever I try to revisit the question, I don’t blurt out my standard answer as fast as before. The confidence falters. When asked during different points of my life, sometimes the answer is even different. You start to consider factors that you would not have even thought about when you were a kid. You start to think about the takeaways from the relationship rant sessions with your (mostly drunk-)friends/loved ones. I guess you can only be sure of something when you’re actually in the moment. Not doing guesswork before, not reminiscing after, but only during the moment.

Another interesting thing to note is that years after, after supposedly going through all those life experiences that are supposed to make your earthly wisdom richer, we still find ourselves asking the same ‘juvenile’ questions. Yup, all that time and we haven’t even figured out the answer yet (and by we, I mean me).

It’s probably a good thing that all train rides must come to an end — attempts to go existential are rudely (and are gladly!) interrupted and you find yourself just going along with the flow. As things should be.

We are an army. We outnumber them but ironically, this is the fact that works against us and pits us against each other. Yes ladies, the official ratio as of current is 105 girls to 100 guys. It doesn’t look so bad, but this is without filtering out the gay and the clergy. The sooner you get over the fact, the better.

Here we are, armed with all the feel-good books and talk shows you can find for our growing market share. I can’t remember when I started the hunt for good chick-lit/old-maid fiction, one that will console me for what seems to be inevitable. I remember being pissed off at ones that had a good premise but sold-out in the end when the heroine magically finds the ever-elusive perfect guy that will love her unconditionally. Bah, humbug.

Here we are ladies, putting up the good fight. Believing that if we hold out, we will sooner or later meet the one who was worth the wait. This is while also believing that if we don’t find him, we’ll be okay because we were freaking awesome to begin with. Sometimes, I can’t help but wonder what’s worse — chasing a futile hope or catching yourself in a self-induced delusion.

And as always, this shall end as unresolved. Will get back to you after 50 years. Or 2012. Whichever comes last.

Mark this day — 1st of February 2009 — as the day we took matters into our own hands. Tried to be more proactive, you could say.

In another sudden bout of insanity, A, R & I bound ourselves to a bet.

A was lose 30 pounds.

R was to find a girlfriend.

I was to get a boyfriend.

First one to do the deed gets treated to a fancy-schmancy all-you-can-eat.

In short, I gambled on doing something that I’m proven to be perfectly incapable of doing for the past 24 years. Oh yeah. Darn it, I’ve never bound myself to a bet that I wasn’t set on winning. I’m a competitive person by nature, and I always knew that would always lead me to trouble. This time, though, it might lead me to something good too.

It’s both nerve-wracking and exhilirating at the same time. This may be the hardest goal I’ve set for myself ever. The gloves are off! One thing’s for sure — this is going to be fun.

The old me never did me any good in the romance department. Maybe getting myself into trouble was just the push I needed.

Somehow, this was just how things just came to be. Table for one. Cinema ticket for one. Weekend for one. It’s amazing how much you can get used to after a while.

You imagine how it must feel. Sweat drops falling on the ridge of your face from the nervousness of someone recognizing you and exposing the loner that you are. Some random stranger making a face at you like, ‘What the hell is wrong with you?’. But you know what? I’m 24 and it’s about time I grew out of the HS-posse-mentality. It’s just like another fear I had to conquer.

And once you’ve done it — eating out by yourself, saying ‘just one please’ to that movie ticket lady — it’s actually liberating.

It’s actually comforting to know that if you meet someone, it was not because you just needed company, or in short, just practically anyone. It was because you needed Him (and for me it takes a lot of guts to admit I need someone).