On His Way

It is a pity how my very own mother inquires about my current relationship status. We were folding laundry early this afternoon and this matter pops out in the middle of this yawn-inducing activity and she told me that I musn’t set my standards too high, or else I’ll never find a boy who’ll like me. When I went out this afternoon to buy a lip smacker at Gaisano Passi she helped me in putting on a very chic outfit where she said, “Nah. That looks smart. Maka-migo ka na na.” I winced in an instant, not at the thought of me having or not having a boyfriend but the fact that my very own mother is now pushing me to find and dandle one. Oh boy, my two unmarried aunts even warned me that the life of a spinster is almost as miserable as how mass media portrays it and they see a big possibility that I inherited that damn awful of a gene!

When the majority of people ask you how things are going, I tell them “Fine. Everything’s fine.”

It is. I’m doing okay with my academics, I get along with my roomates and siblings, I’ve been unsick for the past couple of months (except for my toothache conundrum). The weight I’ve gained, or the shabby wardrobe I own or the slow internet connection does not bother me anymore. I go to bed early and wake up feeling happy.

I have watched a friend after friend around me get into relationships that make sense. These people aren’t disposable idiots I’ll laugh about over brunch the next day. I feel a warm sense of relief that my friends are no longer dating losers and then feel an immediate surge of panic. What about me? When will it be me?

These thoughts cross my mind when Ispend my thousandth night in, when I feel the pressure of an invisible clock working against me, when I feel as unattractive as my flunctuating self-esteem. I’m starting to get antsy now. The fear of scooping up your own shit at the age of ninety is becoming palpable. Hurry, hurry.

Then I tell myself, I’m just just 19 going on 20. There’s no need to hurry. I have the next ten years to find love. If it will happen, it will happen. But if fate decides otherwise, then I have myself to be happy with, for if all else fails, it’s the only thing that will be with me no matter what.

Society condemns alonedom. It brings images of misery and boredom, like people must have problems if, after a while, nobody is dating them. But loneliness is also a fullness of being. Because if I’m happy in my head, then loneliness is blessed and solitude is okay.

Tonight I will take myself out for dinner. A restaurant with linen and silverware or maybe just a fast food where I’ll be no less intriguing a person when I’m eating solo dessert to cleaning the whipped cream from the plate with my finger. I’m going to watch movies, in my couch, with the lights off, where it is dark and soothing. Alone in my seat knowing that thousands of people are feeling the same way that I do and somehow, someday soon I could be loved in an instant, and be surrounded by it in the time I would really need it.

Yes. Someday soon.