My Big Love

Dear G,

It’s been a while since we last kept touch.

You remain the biggest love of my life because you were, what, 5’8”? And mind you, that was in first-year college. Yes, I remember seeing you, your best friend R and your mestiza girlfriend during the orientation seminars. I had the biggest crush on you. Imagine to my delight to see you in my homeroom class for first year—without your friend and girlfriend.

It wasn’t your height that overwhelmed me. It was your handsome mestizo looks, your adorable, pinch-worthy cheeks, your distinct scent that combined sweet masculine musk with the fresh clean scent of whatever brand of deodorant you favored at that time. Your eyes crinkled on the side as you smiled, your thin lips pulling back as you reveal your pearly whites. And you weren’t afraid to throw your head back and just give a full-throttled laugh. I found it easy to make you laugh. I wanted to hear you always laughing and happy.

When you told me you broke up with your girlfriend, I was sad for you and excited for me. I was with you every step of college. I became your new best friend; I even managed to ease out R, your constant companion since grade school, and I took his place alongside you day after day. We were always together, from the joys of English class to the torture of Theology. Because you still spoke some Spanish at home with your aunts, you helped me get through Spanish 1-4; in return, I made you understand the parts of Philosophy that I understood. We were inseparable.

And I was deathly afraid to tell you how much I loved you.

It was fourth year, and we agreed to be thesis-mates. It was possibly our last year together. I couldn’t let go of that romantic wish, that maybe, just maybe, with everything that I’ve done for you—all the accompanying you to wherever you wanted to go, all the help I extended to you whenever you were in need, even sacrificing my own happiness just to help you try to win your girlfriend back (you failed, I was happy) or woo a new one (you succeeded, I was miserable)—all that effort and love didn’t escape your notice. That was all for you, G. I had to tell you.

I don’t even remember how or when. All I remember is you quietly looking down on the floor. You telling me you cannot love me back that way. You assuring me that our friendship will not change.

Well it did. And what did you do? You said you wouldn’t change, but you kept your distance. I was baffled, then hurt, then vengeful. I wanted to hit back where it hurt the most. Our thesis became out battleground.

By the time second semester of fourth year came, I had enough common sense to put my hurt pride aside and do what was necessary to put our thesis back on track. But even then, we almost didn’t get to march that March. I vowed then that it would be the last time I let a guy jeopardize my responsibilities.

But our story didn’t end in graduation, did it G? When I was working in CCP, you applied there too after your stint at a TV station didn’t pan out. Then when I transferred to Radyo Veritas, you also asked me if there was a position for you, and we took you in. Now it was you following me. And for a while, the old feelings came back again. But this time I knew better; this time I was the one who backed off.

When I went into advertising, you moved back to media. That was when we were able to stand on our own, away from one another. You moved even farther away, migrating to the U.S. with your wife and kids. I thought time and distance would allow us to be good friends again, almost like before. When you added me in Facebook and followed me on Twitter, I welcomed it.

Until one day I tweeted something overtly gay, and you tweeted that you were unfollowing me because my tweets were TMI (too much information).

Well.

I stopped following you after college, G; unfollowing you yet again was the easiest thing to do. Because I realized it’s so easy for me to walk away from anyone—gay or straight—who couldn’t take me for who I am.

It was several years ago that I deleted you from my life. After this temporary trip down undelete lane, it’s back to limbo again for you. I hope you are doing well, G.

Click.