Dear Lily Gaga,
Yeah, right, we had it hard. I had it so hard myself I almost knocked off that guy you dispatched to fetch your things from my place. He was bigger than me, I know, but I imagined knocking him off with one of the empty bottles in my room. And, umm, well, you are right too. I handled it too badly. And I think I am sorry. Now allow me to explain.
I am aware some people got envy when they saw us together. And we simply look great on Friendster. But by judging us together by appearances and the number of envious emails from your Friendster friends are enough reasons to stay in a relationship, right? Wrong. You see, a relationship is more than just that. There is also called chemistry, not your usual high-school chemistry stuff, which you once got crazy about.
Yet believe me, Ly-darling you, writing this letter is far easier than rescuing our dying relationship. I gave it a chance, tried to make things work, and even followed my mother’s good counsel to just love you. That I can’t find someone like you: so wonderful and, as she once said, almost perfect. Well, I tried, honestly tried, and yet failed, utterly failed. I must have missed something and got no idea what, or why.
Like during Sinulog, you became quite jumpy and not yourself when some television celebrities passed our way. One celebrity was throwing kisses to the crowd-mostly-howling-girls-yet-to-get-laid. I was busy fixing the gin and lime drinks and being careful not to get them spilled. When I looked up I saw you catching those thrown kisses like the other girls and swallowing them like chorizo balls, strings and all. That is, in front of me and few other unimpressed men in the crowd. I did not see the point of it, or pretend not to see the point and I was embarrassed. I know and understand what blood can do to jumpy-little-girls when they saw Dingdong or other actor passing by and blowing kisses, and them girls passing out. Well, it might have been required, a commonplace spectacle, or something in this third world country we called the Philippines. I am not sure and I don’t really care anyway. But I almost puked when that continued for some minutes and laughed some gin-aided later. It was a very hot afternoon and I was drinking my gin on that huge elevated platform especially made for the government people. I wonder how much it cost for only a day use while I saw lots of poor people below us evidently suffering from hunger and thirst. But let’s get back to this love-lost letter for you.
Now please know that I never hate you or anything. You are a great woman and you have equally great attributes. But another man who has similar greatness and attributes like you possess would simply have clicked with you. I am not that man.
Of course, you are very sweet and know it, and quite anxious to show that off especially when there are other girls around. There’s nothing wrong with that really and it amused me when you are like that. But I need a girl with more than just mere sweetness. I need someone who knows when to apply, or break, the imaginary rule of propriety, or impropriety, and can hold her own when we are mingling with other people.
Finally, allow me now to just tell you that there is no other woman as you may have now assumed. I just imagine it would have been much easier if there is one. Sadly, I haven’t found anyone yet better than you. I mean, you cook well, you are thoughtful, you are a good Friendster hacker and, as far as I know, you have no bad intention of ever owning their private profiles, so long as those people at Friendster don’t pissed you off as you once warned me. But darling, is that the best we could come up with after having been together, for what, 7 years? Not to count that year when I was too busy with studies and you were dating with some other guys you met somewhere.
Well, I’m sorry, Lynnimickens, like the others too, this blogger also still believes in a little something called Love.
As usual, I am not too sure now. Maybe it’s just me, preferring a bottle and fighting my own demons in my room than having your company and fighting your own demons as well as mine. Or it can be that I am not too disposed to love. That could be true too. Yet I believe there’s some hope that the right one for me will come my way someday. I am that hopeless romantic and I am miserably cursed.
Bid you now fair winds Dear-Ly-Gagafinesse. I’ll think well of you from now on.
Love lots and lost,
P.S. Please be kind to tell that guy to stop texting me, I am not interested. And besides, I’ve enough stalkers already and going through the process of issuing him, and the others, a restraining order is not fun. Hope you understand. Thanks a lot.