Another head hangs lowly/ Child is slowly taken/And the violence causes silence/ Who are we mistaking?
The year was 1994. I was a scrawly kid with pudgy cheeks and a shapeless body underneath my black shoes, box-pleated skirts, Catholic School girl white blouse, and the huge navy blue bow on my collar. I sported my unruly hair in a ponytail, put up multi-colored ribbons that cost P2.50/meter in my ponytail and never went to the bathroom unless in groups.
I hanged-out with the popular girls in class, the Glittergirls, who were either rich, smart or athletic. (Yabang ko ba? Highschool pa ito!) As most girls my age, I was emotionally messed up due to the teenage hormones, always seeking the approval of my friends, constantly rebelling against my very supportive parents and thinking that crushing on Bad Boys were cool.
My Bad Boy’s name was TheOriginalRockstar or TOR, for short.
Can’t you see/ It’s not me/ It’s not my family/ In your head/ In your head/ They are fighting
TOR was one of the popular guys. As a member of the last batch of all-male graduates, he ran with a fairly loud and rough crowd, the school rockers, the Bad Boys, the boys who frequently got into trouble for being caught bringing porn to school, peeping the underwear of young female teachers, making them cry, fooling around during school programs and causing general ruckus. He was a non-conformist who wore tight boot-legged jeans, sported punk-like hairdos, painted grungy art, recited poetry and wrote songs about angst, like a local Kurt Cobain in the making.
I was majorly in-crush with him.
With their tanks and their bombs/And their hands and their guns/In your head/In your head/They are crying
Since I wasn’t one of those highschool girls who frequently get noticed, I was contented watching him from afar and gushing about him to my friends who started calling me this mixed up name composed of the first few letters of my name and the last few letters of his (like Mis-OR) while I doodled “I Love You, TOR” on the corners of my notebooks. Until the day a friend and classmate of his tells me that he and his band were looking for a female student to sing “Zombie” with their band.
Now, I have a fairly good singing voice, kind of husky and somewhat bedroom voice-ish. I can’t do a great Celine Dion but I can do a mean Dolores O’ Riordan or Evanescence if I wanted to. So, one time, when TOR and his friends were hanging out a couple of feet away from where my friends and I were sitting, one of them asked me to make them notice me by singing “Zombie.”
And so I did. And I sang that song like my life depended on it.
In your head/ In your head/ Zombie/ Zombie/ What’s in your head/ In your head/ Zombie/ Zombie
Of course, I was noticed. By mid-afternoon, I got an office call which turned out to be his band’s lead vocalist asking me to join them for practice. I was shy, pretended to be uncertain about joining them but I said yes. In reality, I was ecstatic and was making high jumps of success in my mind. I couldn’t wait for the day to end so that I can finally join them for practice. At last, a chance to be with TOR and hopefully get him to notice me.
Like any other highschool girl with a crush, I had a delusion that once I started hanging out with him and his band, he will fall inlove with me and my voice, and he will court me, and I’ll say yes, and he’ll give me my first kiss and we’ll be together, and I’ll support him as he works his way to stardom as a musician while I climb up the corporate ladder as a professional writer for some corporation until finally at the age of 25, he’ll ask me to marry him, and then we’ll have sex and make babies until I finally reach menopause and then we’ll grow old together as we watched over our brood of six children and 12 or more grandchildren.
But of course, that didn’t happen.
What happened is that when I started hanging out with him and his band, he still barely said a word a to me. I ended up being fantastic during practice but botching up my singing debut infront of the whole highschool community by having an unfortunate incident with a non-functioning microphone, causing me to be unaware that my audience couldn’t hear my voice as I sung the first half of “Zombie.” It took the highschool principal flailing around as he waved both of his hands infront of me to signal that he couldn’t hear me over the sound of all the other instruments. They did get me a new microphone by the second half and I managed to perform the whole song again along with “Dreams” during another school-organized event but still, I think it was safe to say that most people had already labeled me as “The Girl Who Sang Zombie With The Band And Was Completely Unaware That Noone Can Hear Her Until Halfway Through The Song” after that.
Despite having had the chance to hang-out with TOR and his band and sharing that unfortunate incident with him, nothing significant happened between him and me. To make things worse, he ended up dating my cousin (who I can’t really blame because she’s great and I love her despite the fact that I’m jealous over her Iya Villania looks). To make things even worse, my parents knew about my obsession with him and they frequently used to tease me about him, considering that he ended up working under my mom’s supervision at her office for some time.
Of course, at that point, I was already sooo over him.
And the only thing that comes across my mind, everytime our paths would cross nowadays was, Why, [mistress], why? What the hell were you thinking back in highschool?
WHY?!!!
Suffice it to say, my tastes have far improved since back then.
Zombie/ Oh/ Oh/ Oh/ Oh/ Oh/ Oh/ Oh/ Eyyyy/ Hay/ Yeah/ Yeah
* Inspired by Charming, but Single’s There Are Songs About All Of Them series
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EngineerBoy has been a constant fixture on my previous posts
here and
here but I have yet to tell his story. So, I suppose, it’s fine time that I do.
EngineerBoy and I were classmates from highschool. He was a quiet guy who was accelerated by one year during his grade school days which made him at least a year younger than most of us in the class. Because he was short and sported a “Keempee-Keempee” hairdo (named after a popular That’s Entertainment teen idol in the 80’s), he was frequently picked on by the rest of the boys.
- Keempee de Leon, the trendsetter -
In highschool, where cliques are the usual trend, he was a member of the Homebodies, a group of quiet, male non-achievers who were forced into a clique of their own, seeing that everybody else had already fallen into their own groupings. I, on the other hand, ran with a different crowd, the Glittergirls, a group of popular girls in class who excelled either in the academics or athletic fields.
It would have been an understatement to say that our worlds did not collide.
It wasn’t until a few weeks before graduation when the impending end of our angst-driven years threatened the exclusivity brought about by cliques. As my own friends started hanging out with those from the other groups, a web of interactions resulted to EngineerBoy and I engaged in conversations between the two groups and before long, we found ourselves, talking and hanging out with each other without the rest of our friends, simply enjoying each other’s company. We would have lunch together, sat together during games, annoy an ex-suitor by making him feel jealous, spend our after-school hours by the white picket fences where class couples frequently hanged out, talking about school and music and everything under the sun.
Our first “date” comprised of EngineerBoy and I going with two of the couples in our class to a movie entitled “Daylight” starring Sylvester Stallone. We were nervous and awkward as we sat together, painfully aware of just how close our heads had to be for us to be able to make little side comments to each other’s ears during the movie. The group outing was construed by the rest of the class as a date and it elevated my relationship with EngineerBoy from friends to a soon-to-be couple status.
All this time though, EngineerBoy never professed his love for me. I wasn’t even aware that he had a crush on me. I was waiting for him to say something that at least implied that he liked me so that I can finally say that I like him too, but it never came. I suppose what we had was more of an unspoken mutual interest. A guessing game of sorts, of whether who liked who the most.
Until one day, I had ripped a sheet of paper from my notebook and he offered to throw it out for me. I gave him the crumpled paper and left him to take a quick sip from the water fountain. A friend of mine rushed to my side and handed me the same crumpled sheet of paper. EngineerBoy had apparently written something in there which he wanted me to see. As I uncrumpled the paper and tried to discern his handwriting from my own algebraic graphs and equations, I realized that he had only written one word:
PWEDE?
One word and it spoke of volumes. Of the fact that he liked me, that he wanted to be in a relationship with me, that he wanted me and was asking me to be in a relationship with him.
Finally, in one word, he had found the courage to tell me that he wanted us to be more than friends.
“So, ahmmm… what do you think?” he asked, looking at me sheepishly.
“What does this mean, EngineerBoy?
“Well, I… Ahmmm… I like you… Do you think it’s possible that you’d like to… ahmmm… go steady with me?
Like every naïve highschool girl, I was an idealist. I had a vision of how my first boyfriend should be, how our first date should come out, how my first kiss should feel. I was slightly being a snob but I wasn’t quite sure that EngineerBoy was the right person for the job. Hell, I wasn’t even quite sure I was ready for a boyfriend then. I was 15 and afraid of my parents. I wasn’t prepared enough to be willing to take that road yet, much less disappoint them by coming home with a boyfriend they’ll probably think isn’t half worthy enough for their daughter.
It didn’t help that I had been accepted to a prestigious school at the big city. EngineerBoy, on the other hand, was planning to enroll at a school somewhere down South. I didn’t seem right that my first boyfriend-girlfriend experience would be in the form of a long distance relationship. That wasn’t how I envisioned my first ever relationship should turn out and I’m sure, neither did he.
So I chickened out. And gave him this elaborate excuse in the form of a stupid analogy, “The thing is, EngineerBoy, if we start a relationship now when we’re about a few weeks short of graduation, it will be like a half-empty glass of water. You only have so little left before the glass becomes empty. We’ll be going off to different colleges soon. If we do start a relationship, we’ll be spending only a few weeks together. I don’t want us to become boyfriend-girlfriend only with what little time we have left. We’ll just be forcing ourselves to something that doesn’t fit right in the first place. It wouldn’t be fair to anyone of us.”
Of course, a simple “No” would have conveyed the same message easier but I figured, this would sound less painful.
We lost touch soon after graduation and accidentally found each other again a year later at a mall in the big city. He had his arm around some girl and I couldn’t deny the pangs of jealousy that overcame me when I realized that it was him. It turns out EngineerBoy had ended up taking up college at some university just some walking distance from my own school, instead of the school down South.
Can I get any more pathetic?
And it didn’t help that he had grown at least a foot, lost the baby fat and looked so much better. Like John Lloyd Cruz post-loveteam days with Kaye Abad.
- Isn’t he just gorgeous? -
I banged my head repeatedly on the wall. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Why me, Lord, why me?
A few years later, we met again, during one fateful highschool reunion. We were both single and thus, hoping to rekindle what we forego years ago, we found ourselves flirting with each other again. But the flirtation fazed off just as soon as it started. It wasn’t that we didn’t like each other, it was just that a stronger bond of friendship was developing between us. We found ourselves dragging the other to new places and experiences: making me miss my dormitory curfew just so we can have a few smokes at some nearby park, raiding 7-11s near his boarding house at midnight, hanging out at music bars and getting drunk on cheap beer, frequenting cheap carinderias with VideoSingko machines where we’d sing our lungs off, not particularly caring that he couldn’t carry a tune to save his life.
We became bestfriends. I was delegated godmother to his future kids, he, my back-up husband by age 30.
I introduced him to one of my classmates from medical school, who became his girlfriend. A year or so after, he left our town to look for work at the big city, found himself a new girlfriend, got one of his ex-es pregnant. It took four years before he returned for a vacation and I finally saw him again. He still looked younger, more reserved, less childish, more profound. Yet he was still the same EngineerBoy I adored.
Some days, I think about my what ifs, like what if I said yes to EngineerBoy during highschool? What if he had become my first boyfriend? Would we have lasted long? Would I have met the others? Would we have become the best-est of friends like we are now?
This time I don’t need an analogy. The answer is definitely NO.
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I was in my 4th year of college when a good friend of mine whom I’ve known for a long time asked me out on a date.
I will fondly refer to him as TheRock.
TheRock was a classmate of mine from highschool. He was rich, friendly, flirty, not much in the looks department but always very fun to be with. He had this thing in highschool wherein every night, he would call me and about four other girls in my class and chat with each one of us on the phone about school, our classmates or just anything under the sun. He has always been a little flirty for as long as I can remember but because I didn’t know if half of what TheRock is saying is true or just something he made up to make me laugh, I never really took him that seriously.
Well, none of us five girls did actually.
When I left for college in the big city, he also took up his in another city away from home. Every vacation, we’d both go home back to our hometown and he would call me up at home as soon as he arrives. I began to look forward to his calls because he was funny and really knew how to crack me up. Plus, when the two of us are together, there just aren’t any silent moments.
He called me by a special pet name, the name only my family calls me, as if he was a member of my family as well.
Christmas break, year 2000. TheRock has started spoiling me. I would only joke about wanting to eat balut (duck egg) at the Boulevard and he’d be like, “Okay, go and change now. I’ll be there to pick you in an hour so we can go.” Or I’d be talking to him on the phone and I’d be saying something like, “I miss eating pizza. I haven’t had one in a long time,” and a few hours later, he’ll be at our house, and we’ll be eating from the box of Greenwich pizza that he bought for me. I figured, he was just being sweet, and considering that he and I have always been close, I didn’t think of it that much.
Until the day he tells me that he likes me.
“I really like you, [mistress].”
“Hey, I like you too, TheRock.”
“I mean, as more than a friend.”
Silence on my part. The sound of cicadas rubbing their legs.
“Hey, say something.”
“I… Well… I don’t know, TheRock…I, ahmmm…”
“Listen, I know you’re probably still not completely over your boyfriend and we’ve been good friends for quite some time so I’m sure you probably know by now that I respect you and I have nothing but good intentions for you. It’s just that I think we’ll be good together and if I don’t at least try then, I might regret it someday. And I don’t want this to be one of the things I’ll always wonder about.”
I smiled. “Okay, you got me there.”
“So, how about it? Would you like to go out with me on a date?”
I bit my lip. “Okay.”
So, considering that I was already 20 years old at that time, already with two boyfriends and one serious relationship on my belt, I assumed my parents would finally allow me to go out on a date.
Well, I assumed wrong.
When I told my parents that I would be going out on a date with TheRock, they totally flipped out. First of all, because TheRock was a Muslim. Apparently, despite living in a town where half of the population practice the Islam faith, the proximity of living with our Muslim brothers has done nothing to make them rethink about their bigotry.
“Who is this boy? You don’t know how different Muslim boys are from those who are like us. What if he’ll take advantage of you, put something in your drink when you have your back on him and then, rape you or something? [Mistress], they are not like us. They are different. They’re so much more dangerous.”
So, are you saying all the rapists and criminals in jail are Muslims? I wanted to tell them but instead, I kept my mouth shut out of respect.
Second, my mother had equated a simple date to going steady. How archaic can you get! Like one date with the guy and I’m already going to find myself inlove with him and wanting to marry him? I got annoyed with her and I ended up yelling out angrily, “I’m only going out with him on one date. One date! I’m NOT marrying him!”
Personally, I think my parents basically gave me a hard time about that date because I spent majority of my dating experiences at the big city, away from my parents. This was going to be the first time that they were actually going to experience what most parents dread – waiting impatiently at home for your daughter to come home, knowing that she has gone off on a date with some boy who hopefully, will not take advantage of her.
Anyway, after all the drama, my parents and I compromised by agreeing to bring someone along with us on our date. Thankfully, they agreed when I finally told them that one of our highschool classmates, FutureDoctor, will be joining us. So, TheRock picked FutureDoctor up at her house and together, they picked me up at my house. I made sure that my parents saw both of them before we headed out to TheRock’s car. In the flurry of nervousness, TheRock and I totally forgot the customary You-look-nice-So-do-you crap that first dates are supposed to have. I did notice though that he smelled really nice, which, of course, he usually did.
We then brought FutureDoctor back to her house – Seriously, you didn’t really think we’d be bringing her along with us! – and then, alone at last, we finally headed out to start our date.
TheRock brought me to this really romantic quiet restaurant away from town. He ordered a lot of food, we had great conversation and we laughed a lot. But the thing with being on a date with someone you’ve known for a long time is that you’re way past that certain imaginary line that divides friendship and a potential love interest. I didn’t feel the particular need to put my best foot forward nor did I feel any butterflies in my stomach. I admit, I wanted to feel the butterflies and fall inlove with him. But nothing happened. I couldn’t really look back anymore and say “Hmmm… I think I’d like to kiss him tonight.” That just does not happen. If that certain sexual chemistry wasn’t there in the first place, then, in my case, it usually doesn’t pop out at all.
The date was perfect, the company even better, but I really couldn’t lie to myself and say that I could find myself falling madly inlove with him. Afraid to destroy the magic of the moment, I kissed him on the cheek when he brought me home. A bittersweet ending, for my part, in exchange for a great night. A kiss he had misconstrued as a possibility.
The next time we saw each other, he was picking me up as we were about to attend our annual highschool reunion. I told him he was a great friend, one of my best-est of friends, but I was afraid that if we got into a relationship, I might only hurt him. He said he’ll be patient with me. But I knew right then and there that it was a lost cause. I spent the rest of the night flirting with another classmate of ours who previously courted me in highschool,
EngineerBoy, sneaking for a quick smoke and exchanging rowdy remarks with the girls, even Frenchkissing one sexually-confused classmate of ours as part of a dare, and getting pissing drunk. I didn’t even notice that
TheRock, who doesn’t drink, had left the party to meet another one of our classmates who did not want to attend the reunion.
He didn’t even say goodbye. I felt slightly insulted that he brought me to the party and left me to fend for my ride home on my own. Maybe it was his way of getting back at me. I don’t know. Up to this day, I never did ask him why he left that way.
The next day, he called me up and it was like the past few days never happened. We were laughing and talking like good friends, the way we used to, before all this business about liking me more than a friend came about. It was like he had never considered seriously dating me. We continually remained good friends, and after college, when everybody went back home, because of me, he and EngineerBoy even became really good friends as well. At that time, the three of us had become quite a pair and I felt so blessed, just being in the company of my two favorite boys in the whole world.
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