s(craps)

Emotionally, I haven't kissed anyone since he left.

Such a powerful sentence; consciously I read this line again and again for a good five minutes. I vowed not to be emotional anymore, but that's like saying I don't want to be a woman anymore. No can do. 

The first time we met was outside the theater. I was the one who asked him out. He actually declined my invitation at first, but he was eager enough to set another date for us to meet. I took that as a resounding yes. Back then, I was quite intimidated by how tall he was. He towered over me like a giant yet gentle bear. He was almost a 6-footer for cryin' out loud. It's funny how I used to think I would never get used to having someone so tall as a romantic partner. Little did I know that was the first thing I would soon forget.

The second thing I remember the most was his fresh-laundry smell. His particular scent literally sent shivers down my spine. It was a combination of a sweet smell from soft, worn-in clothing and a clean, almost musky fragrance. No perfume involved, just the mere smell of his shirt and the fact that I was sitting right beside him in close quarters were enough to electrify my virgin instincts. I was hooked.

My favorite memory involved me and him drinking cold beer outside a sari-sari store. It was a no-fuss encounter; that's what made it so special. At that time we were testing the waters, putting our best foot forward, and enjoying the all-too-obvious attraction we had for each other. Yes, it was like a low-budget romantic movie. We talked about everything and almost anything, including the most shameful questions on how great we think the other was. I liked how we made each other laugh with ease. I liked how comfortable I was with him. I loved how he made me feel. Our initial meetings were void of pretence and rigidity. I could feel no judgment. We had almost-perfect evenings full of honest conversation, booze, and lots of laughter.

Now I sit here like an old sage thinking to myself that maybe it wasn't all too special. All lovers start out with whirlwind, rose-colored meetings. He and I were no different. But I'm glad I experienced something so sweet in real life.  These days, I think about him less and less, that's for sure. These days, I'm just overwhelmed by the heart's resilience, its ability to hope like nothing horrible ever happened. I still believe that the heart never forgets, it just learns to look for a new spot to beat for new life again.