Tag Archives: crush

What to Do When You Like Somebody Who Doesn’t Like You

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Let me crush all your hopes and dreams for a moment and say it plainly that some things are just impossible. You can keep blabbering on about all the self-help lessons you’ve learned from some New York Times Bestseller but that won’t help you when reality finally bites you in the buttocks and you don’t have a choice but to grasp the fact that there are things you just can’t do–and one of them is make a girl who doesn’t like you like you.

When faced with such a situation of a sinister kind of certitude, here are a few things you can do:

1. Stop “investing.” — So you’re about to send her another private message again hoping that you can slip one or two lines of cheesiness in between all the normal, friendly talk? STOP. BREATHE IN, BREATHE OUT. STOP. Don’t do it. See, the more you “invest” in a hopeless matter and a relationship that doesn’t exist in any universe or multiverse, the more you hurt yourself, if not today then in the future when the big elephant in the room, which you so fiercely refuse to see, finally shows itself. So whatever you still have up your sleeve (a half-finished poem or a song in your head), better throw that in the trash bin now. Now. Not later, not tomorrow, NOW. Less investments, more resources to consume when the market of your feelings finally crashes launching you into the literal Great Depression.

2. Adopt a hobby. — All of us have hobbies or things we like to do. Falling for a person can oftentimes interrupt these hobbies when we start shifting our attention to the object of our affection. While before this romantic madness, you were able to practice drawing and painting, now your day is only limited to thinking about her and thinking about her and thinking about her some more, which is of course, indicative of a malignant disease. So, what you have to do is go back to doing these hobbies no matter how hard it is to break the habit of not having any habit but daydreaming about stuff that can’t happen in real life. Can’t draw? Don’t want to work out or read a book? I don’t care. JUST DO SOMETHING ELSE FROM NOW ON.

3. Work like a maniac. — Work is different from hobbies because hobbies are what you’re supposed to do at home while work is what you do at the workplace. The strategy though is the same: you must let your work consume your heart and soul, so there’s not a second of your life wasted on pondering the feelings of a person who’s so busy pondering the feelings of another person who’s not you. Do you normally go on little facebooking breaks in between tasks? Quit it! Work like you’ve never worked before. Triple your productivity. Go for those incentives. Hound your boss and make suggestions on how to run the entire freakin’ company. I don’t know. Just occupy yourself with a humongous amount of work and act like workers don’t have rights. It’s good for you.

4. Fuss over other people’s problems. — Let’s face it: you have a problem. Unfortunately, facing your problem in this case isn’t healthy because you’ll only drive yourself crazy thinking about that person again. So instead of minding your problem, fuss over other people’s problems. Yep, you read that right. Their problems, not yours. Your coworker’s cat died? Make him tell you more about how his pet was an irreplaceable part of his life and now he might as well kill himself because the world is going to end! Your friend’s boyfriend left her? Wear your best shocked face and tell her that she has a big problem, which she will surely have the rest of her life. Ferment problems. Heck–create new ones! Spread them like a virulent virus! All the while hiding that you’ve got a problem, too…

5. Drink to celebrate… ANYTHING! — This is the opposite of number 4. Whereas in number 4, you are deliberately generating and propagating negative emotions, here, you’re forcing yourself to create positive energies of the drunken kind. Doubtless you’ve heard that intoxication helps solve problems but that’s not really true. Drinking while thinking and discussing your problem would make you forget the problem only for a brief period of time–the time you spend sleeping after you get drunk. But clearly that’s not helpful at all because you essentially just wasted your money wasting yourself but the same problem still faces you in the morning with a renewed tenacity and vengeance. So instead of wallowing in self-pity while binging on beer, CELEBRATE. Celebrate what? Celebrate anything. Anything. Your coworker wore a different shirt today out of his regular 5-day-a-week shirt rotation he’s held onto for the last 2 years? Celebrate his newfound life! A friend didn’t complain about the train this morning? Cheers to his freshly adopted positive outlook and contagious grateful vibe! Toast to the moon, the stars, the earth below your feet and everything in between, even that disgusting piece of shit you ate for lunch. But never, ever drink because you’re obsessed with somebody.

6. Look for a human receptacle of unspent feelings. — And finally some advanced psychological crap. Thing is, even if you do all of the above tips, you will likely still have a portion of feelings that can’t go anywhere else except in your nightmares where your inadequacy will hunt you and make you wake up in the middle of the night shivering cold and looking like a complete wuss. To avoid that, you must be a little proactive in managing your energies and emotions. One good technique is to find another human receptacle of unspent feelings. This person will serve as the object of your romantic momentum instead of the person you really like. The only requirement is that this human receptacle should not be entirely likeable–that is, you can only truly like her when you’ve completely bullshitted yourself into madness. The advantage of steering your feelings toward this unwitting, poor soul is that no matter what you do or what you don’t, you’ll never get hurt. ‘Cause she doesn’t give a fuck about you and you don’t give a fuck about her.

______________________

*Written in mockery of the author’s own experiences throughout his lifetime. And in preparation for the doom that is Valentine’s Day

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The Thing I Like About You

The thing I like about you is…

The thing I like about you is that you’re a knockout.

I mean–goddamn–you really are!

I mean, some girls think they’re knockouts but they’re really not.

There will always be something wrong with them and they’ll conveniently forget it because they want to believe that they’re genuine, authentic, absolute knockouts like you.

But in reality, if we’re gonna be cruelly honest about it, their eyes will be set too close to each other, or their hair will be thin and dry, or their teeth won’t be white enough. For me.

Unlike you.

You–you are truly, fascinatingly, ridiculously a knockout.

And as far as you being the real deal in knockouts, I always find myself lying on the canvas, seeing stars. Down and out.

Whenever I see a glimpse of your shiny, soft hair,

Or your unearthly fair skin,

Or those killer legs,

And all the parts I won’t dare mention to keep this piece wholesome,

I feel like you’re punching the air out of my lungs

And surgically stopping my right and left ventricles, killing all blood flow.

If I go into a coma, I’m sure I’ll only be dreaming about you.

And then you’ll knock me out again in that dream,

Putting me in a coma,

Where I’ll be dreaming about you again.

It’s a vicious cycle. The inception of an obsession?

Nah, I’m not really obsessed with you, lady.

Not yet, anyway.

But that doesn’t mean I don’t really, really, really, really, really

Really

Really

Like you.

No.

‘Cause the truth is that I do.

The thing I like about you is…

The thing I like about you is that you’re so positive.

You are a plus sign. You are a plus in life. You’re something that adds up into an agreeable sum. Something that grows.

That blooms.

And scatters a dizzying, magical fragrance all over the sad humankind.

You are the sun.

You shine with such a strong light you make photosynthesis possible.

You are probably the reason there’s life on this planet

And organic compounds progressed into more complex mobile forms.

Why I evolved from an ape into a human with .99% ape gene.

Can’t be no organisms without the sun, according to scientists.

And like I said, you’re the sun. At least as far as I’m concerned.

Because you’re positive,

Which I adore since I’m a negative guy.

I’m the kind of guy who, when we’re all happy and smiling, I can’t help secretly thinking about starvation in North Korea. And roaches. Train bombs. Decapitation. Nicki Minaj.

So when you walk into the room or laugh out loud even when the matter at hand is not even that funny–but you do it anyway with the sincerity of a child,

With all your freshness and life,

Music and song,

Rose petals, bunny rabbits, violins, rainbows and evening walks under the moon in Paris,

I feel like,

Like,

Like 14% of my negativity is instantly washed away into the ocean of nothingness. And I can write cheesy lines like this and live with the guilt, smiling all the way to my little hole in the city.

14% is a big thing, you know?

That percentage of unburdened negative feelings allows me to work like a jolly, ol’ fella without minding the bloody capitalist exploitation I’m contributing to. I love it!

And I can sincerely joke around like the world isn’t ridiculous enough as it is. It’s amazing!

It works like a vial of love potion mixed with a couple of drops of water from the Fountain of Youth.

Sometimes I even catch myself thinking about hope. High school. Past loves without their dirty endings. And bunny rabbits as fluffy as clouds in the sky, too.

But what am I saying? Sorry I haven’t been too clear with the thing that I like about you.

See–

See the thing I like about you is…

The thing I like about you is that you make me imagine.

Imagine what, exactly?

Oh, you know, all the things worth imagining.

Fairy tales, for example.

(I can’t really think of other things worth imagining. Can you? What–imagining I’m walking under the light of the moon in Paris alone? Doesn’t work. Depressing.

There should always be you in the picture, somewhere.

Put yourself in there and it will quickly turn into a fairy tale–and then we’re talking.)

So where was I?

Yeah, you make me imagine that you’re a princess. And I’m a fuckin’ knight. On a white fuckin’ horse. With a wavin’, white fuckin’ flag with a red blazin’ heart.

FUCK.

And I’m riding my horse over green meadows and fighting a fire-breathing dragon, which I’m slaying with my gemstone sword.

You’re at the top of this enchanted tower covered in thorny vines, singing a heavenly song that calms the howling demons of the seas and the skies. Preventing all-out chaos from happening in this made-up world.

But I’m climbing that thorny tower, blood trickling all over my face and golden hair (‘course I have golden hair in this story), climbing like my very life depended on it.

And then finally, I reach out, I touch your hand made of fairy silk and we live… and we live…

We live…

Sorry. I can’t even bring the tale to its proper conclusion. I’m THAT negative.

But in all seriousness,

Basically,

Usually,

I just imagine you falling for me on a Friday. And I gently tuck your hair behind your ear and we kiss.

Basically.

So what? It’s my fantasy. I can do whatever what I want.

But what I can’t do–

What I really can’t do, and I admit it now, shaking my head in disbelief and utter frustration–

What I can’t do

Is just put my finger on

The thing I like about you.

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The Girl on the Broken Bench (Part 3)

 

The morning after Gutson’s, she sent me a text message saying that I should never reveal her secrets to anyone. My heart almost leapt out of my body and hopped to wherever she was. And from that day on, this journey to chase her across the office, under the rain — guitar-swinging, on MRT platforms, in my mind, and across the world started as I smiled at the miraculous text message on my cellphone screen.

Miraculous. Maybe I wished for a miracle every day, another chance to talk to her as freely as we did back at that dark and dirty room while everyone drank their beer. After all, I needed a ton of luck to push my dreams to reality. Her boyfriend wasn’t going anywhere. Their photos on Multiply and everywhere else exclaimed happiness.

The last thing I wanna be is be an obstacle to someone else’s joy. The girl on the broken bench was clearly contented with her life. She seemed popular, outgoing, and had no problems with the world. I had problems with how my collar looked, how people spend too much money on coffee, and how everyone seems to wear cool sunglasses like the sun shined every day. She and I are too different and it would be laughable for me to barge into her well-written story. Continue reading

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The Girl on the Broken Bench (Part 2)

 

The girl on the broken bench just didn’t like me. But at the time, who could blame her? I was virtually nonexistent in the Blue Waffle building. The Cool Team used to have this award for Cool Person of the Month. Members  of the team would vote by writing notes describing who the coolest person in the team was for that month. The person who gets the most notes wins the award. I got a note that said something like, “Marvin is Cool because he goes to work and gets off without anyone noticing.” And I retrieved this one from my wallet:

“Marvin is Cool because he may be quiet, but he tries to communicate despite having difficulties translating his martian language into english. hehe… Glad you’re coming to the outing.”

To say that I expected the girl to even pay attention to me was absurd. First, the Tagaytay Incident was only possible due to alcohol. Second, I was trained to go to work and come home on time five days a week. I had no time to do something “risky.” Third, I just didn’t have the guts to walk up to her and say that I liked her.

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The Girl on the Broken Bench (Part 1)


bench

Let me relive now how I came to know the girl who made me chase her, guitar-swinging, in the rain.

Love may come to us when we’re half asleep and about to hit the ground snoring. I know, because in my case, it lightly sat beside me on a broken bench one drunken night in Tagaytay.

April 5, 2008. I’ve been with the Blue Waffle Company for only about two months. I was my usual dark and shy self, still quite fresh from my recent stint as a broadcast transcriptionist in a cold, square building in Makati. I was so grateful for the friendliness of the people and the nature of my job as a writer however, that I agreed to go with the Cool Team to Tagaytay. I considered the trip as just part of my work (even though the purpose of the trip was precisely for everyone to forget about work for two days).

The reason I went was because I didn’t want my officemates to think that I was a loser. At the very least, I wanted them to know my name and remember my face ‘cause I think many of them still weren’t aware of my existence at the time. I think they knew someone named “Marvin” who sat in the office somewhere, who worked with them, helped them accomplish goals and stuff, but they really didn’t know his face – like what his nose looked like or if his voice was shrill or deep. But by going on this trip, I could establish a more solid professional connection with my colleagues. They won’t be surprised, for example, if I suddenly send a message to them over YM saying that I needed help for an article. I thought to myself, “I’m gonna go, talk a little, eat a little, sleep a little, and be back home then back to the office in a jiffy.”

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Edi Naging si Shaider Sana Ako

Meron yata akong messiah complex.

Kahit noong bata pa ako, lagi ko nang iniisip na ako ang bida sa istorya at may kailangan akong sagipin. Para akong si Shaider, merong Laser Blade, Blue Hawk, at robot para patumbahin ang mga kalabang halimaw na mukhang higanteng gomang dinosaurs. Dati rin, ginagaya ko si Mask Rider Black tapos kunyari umuusok yung katawan ko dahil sa nag-uumapaw na kapangyarihan. Tapos magra-Rider Punch at Rider Kick ako sa ere para gapiin ang isang invisible na kampon ng kadiliman.

Merong magandang babae sa huli ng istorya na kakalasin ko mula sa mga makamandag na lubid o nangangaing halaman, at hahalikan nya ko kahit nakamaskara pa ko. Babalik ako sa isang sulok ng lungsod, magta-transform, at magiging normal na nerd na lalaki ulit.

Pero nung tumanda ako, napagtanto ko na hindi lahat ng tao — hindi lahat ng babae — kailangang sagipin. Sa totoo lang, marami sa kanila ang mas malakas pa sa’ken. Ako pa nga ang dapat nilang akayin palabas ng madilim na kuweba at itayo sa mga paa sa huli ng istorya. Nakakainis na malamang hindi pala ako ang nag-iisang bida sa kuwento na ito. Akala ko dati ako ang protagonist at side characters lang ‘tong mga mukha sa paligid, pero may mga sarili din pala silang bungkos ng mga pahina. At minsan, mas interesante pa nga ang mga twist nila kesa dito sa nobela ko.

Hanggang ngayon, wala yata akong pinagbago. Gusto ko pa rin manligtas ng ibang tao — higit sa lahat, gusto kitang iligtas.

Hindi naman kailangan. Malinaw naman na hindi malinaw ang tama at ang mali. Malinaw naman kung sinong mas may ibubuga, kung sinong mas may tapang at experience, pero hindi ko pa rin maalis sa sistema ko na gustuhing isalba ka.

Kasi kung ako lang ang masusunod, nais ko talagang bumalik sa oras at malipat ng ibang lokasyon sa kasaysayan. Gusto ko sana nandon ako sa Ilocos o sa Baguio. Do’n dapat ako lumaki, natutong mag-drowing, nakipag-langit-lupa, Monkey-Anabelle, elementary at high school.

Kung nando’n lang ako magiging crush kita. Hindi mo ko papansinin pero ido-drawing kita araw-araw. Magsusulat ako ng mga baduy na tula na ipapahulog ko sa bag mo sa tulong ng best friend ko (dapat nandon si D’Artagnan). Tapos magugulat ka na lang kasi meron na do’ng trying hard na english love poem tungkol sa kung paano mo nai-inspire ang isang taong iniisnab-isnab mo lang. Titingin lang ako at mangangarap habang kasama mo boyfriend mo. Magpapansin lang ako sa klase sa pamamagitan ng mga korning jokes para baka sakaling lumingon ka sa direksyon ko. Masaya na ‘ko nun. Makakapag-aral na ko ng maayos nun.

Tapos sa Baguio, magpapakalublob lang ako sa library kahit hindi gaanong malaki yung library sa UP Baguio. Hahanapin ko kung sa’n yung mga gigs mo, tapos i-schedule ko ng walang sablay para makapunta ko sa lahat. Do’n lang ako sa mga suluk-sulok, parang stalker pero mas masaya naman siguro. Kasama ko malamang si D’Artagnan, tapos iinom kami habang pinapanood kang kumanta at magwala sa stage.

Sa labas, madadatnan nanaman kitang inaaya ng boyfriend mong umuwi. Baka nag-aaway kayo, baka sinasaktan ka nya, ‘di ko alam, pero kung dalawa lang kayo do’n, makiki-epal ako. “‘Tol, wag kang nananakit ng babae!” Magagalit sya at mahihiya ako pero baka manaig yung ka-Shaideran ko. Sana hindi ako umuwing pasa-pasa.

O kaya kahit pakapalan na ng mukha, mag-aabot ulit ako ng love letter sa paborito kong bokalista. Ipapabigay ko kay D’Artagnan kasi mas makapal mukha no’n sa’kin eh. “Abot mo naman sa kanya o. Sabihin mo galing kay Codename Tomas.” Tapos sa susunod na makita kita, aasahan kong bigla mong bubuklatin yung sulat na yun at babasahin mo ng nakangiti habang umiinom ka ng kape at naninigarilyo. Masaya na ko nun. Makakatulog na ko ng mahimbing nun.

At kung sakali mang suwertehin ako, magkaro’n ng himala at maging kaibigan mo ‘ko, tatawagin ko talaga atensyon mo ‘pag may inuman. Hindi ako papayag na paglaruan ka lang ng mga lalaking hindi naman kayang tapatan ako sa sayawan. Hindi kita hahayaang mag-isa. Magpapatawa ako para ngumisi ka man lang o mag-comment ng “Korni mo!” Kakalabitin kita ‘pag malayo tingin mo at aalukin kita ng Chippy. Kailangan mo akong itapon para lubayan kita. Yun ay, kung bibigyan mo yung tagahanga mo ng pagkakataong lumapit sa’yo. Kasi sa totoo lang, sa sobrang taas ng pagtingin ko sa’yo, baka tumakbo ako pag kinausap mo ‘ko.

Pero sasagipin kita. Susubukan ko kahit wala ‘kong powers tulad nung ibang characters; kahit hindi mo ko halikan sa huli habang nakamaskara pa ko.

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