Would you look at that. I actually finished this thirty-day writing challenge thing. Although I feel a little mocked by the Universe for this last writing topic.
Day Thirty: My last love.
I started having a crush on Rodj when he posted a haiku on unrequited crush and ended it with “sayang ang condom”. I never told him this, but I was (and still am) a big fan of his Twitter posts. When we first met each other, he was a very quiet guy, taller than me, and quite shy; I thought he wasn’t interested in me.
But we became friends. And, eventually, friends with benefits. For some people, romantic or sexual relations follow a particular pattern. We had jokes about the timing of those times when we would meet and sleep together, when he realized there was a pattern to it.
I did not expect that we will eventually become boyfriends. I told him that after my last relationship, I was not ready to settle into another one so quickly. He, too, was occasionally dating other guys. It was a comfortable arrangement for both of us, being friends who occasionally sleep with each other.
It was after he decided to end dating a guy and we decided to go on a trip to Baguio together when things became more serious between the two of us. I was still hesitant about committing myself to him, leading to a disagreement. We never fought each other, never an exchange of a harsh words, then and now. We only stop talking.
After a week, I spoke to him again, apologized, and asked if we can be boyfriends.
For people who have loved several times, there will often be one person with whom one will compare future lovers. It isn’t fair, but it happens. And for the longest time, I compared my previous boyfriends to my third. Except for Rodj. He was the first person in a long time that I never had to compare; he was his own tier. He told me he felt pressured when comparing himself to guys I had relationships with before, especially those he knew. I assured him he shouldn’t. Despite what I said just now, I don’t rank my exes. And even if I did, he is a great guy.
He is a great guy.
He is very intelligent, even more than how much he gives himself credit for. He is witty without being too conscious of his wit. He is nice and compassionate in ways I wish I was but I know I cannot be.
He is also quite broken, like me.
We were boyfriends for two months. Some time after the New Year, we stopped talking and I knew something was wrong. He wanted to break it off with me and I could not change his mind. We did not talk to each other for months until shortly before my birthday.
That was our pattern: We’d talk, the friends that we are. In the short time we have known each other, he is one of the few people who know me the most just as I was to him. Then our personal issues would appear, causing us friction. We don’t argue; we only stop talking. After some time, once we have kept our demons at bay, we would apologize to the other. A new cycle commences.
For a nice guy, he was the guy who broke my heart the most times. He made me cry more than any other previous boyfriends combined. It took much, much longer for me to get over our break up than we actually were boyfriends. And I still want him back.
I still want him back.