Exactly a week ago, I watched Breakfast At Tiffany’s. Exactly a week ago, I wrote an article about love, and I ended the essay by quoting my favorite philosopher, Carrie Bradshaw. In the pilot episode of her hit sitcom, Sex and the City, the scene opens to her saying: No one has breakfast at Tiffany’s and no one has affairs to remember. Instead, we have breakfast at 7 AM and we have affairs we try to forget as quickly as possible. And two days later, I met the guy who would force me to rewrite my article, and who would shatter my cynicism in life.
I’ve been dating this guy for three weeks now. I doubt he would be comfortable knowing that his name will be here (he’s in the closet), so from here on, we would leave his name as Q. To all the people who have been religiously reading my blog, I love you guys. Your continuous support has pushed me to express my opinions. And to those people who have been detracting me, I would like to thank you too because you have helped me prove to everyone that my life is far more interesting than the pathetic piece of shit that you call your life. But I don’t want to digress. Q is a xxx student in La Salle, and what can I say about my Q. Bear? He’s intelligent, he’s witty, he’s ambitious, and a little bit on the arrogant side which I find absolutely sexy. He has swept me off my sneaker-clad feet with his charms, his positive influence over me (corny I know, but he’s really turning me into a better man), and his disarming smile that could rival any of the jewels at Tiffany’s. Though Q is extremely cute and he has the brains that can make me come in my head, he is not really the kind of guy I would have pictured to be beside me in the altar. But that was before I had an entire philosophy makeover.
Last night, while having cocktails in Alabang with a family friend (Sophie), I ran into J. There was a bit of the awkward side, but besides that, nothing extremely embarrassing happened. But what happened was, I had a sudden flashback of all the guys I’ve dated and I noticed most of them had a common denominator. And Q didn’t fit any of the physical characteristics I want in a man.
But then I asked myself, so what? Just because my relationship is not what I pictured it to be doesn’t mean that it is not good. Though breakfast at Tiffany’s is fabulous, it’s not realistic. We all want our men to be a la Brad Pitt (Personally I would have picked Antonio Trillanes), but these people are not real. No, I am not saying Brad Pitt is the male replica of Simone (seen that movie?), but my point is, the odds of meeting someone like Brad is equivalent to finding the gold at the end of the rainbow. But I am not saying we should settle for less. Just because Angelina has already snagged that man candy doesn’t mean we should marry that fat slob next door. Why settle for mediocrity when we deserve the best? I dated this one guy (there will be no mention of names to protect the innocent, namely me) and he is what every girl dreams of. A good listener, supportive, gallant. Also, he is there when you need him. Who could refuse? But no matter what he does, regardless of the many bouquets of flowers he gave me, or the thousands of pesos he has spent for me, it really wasn’t going to happen.
People surprise you. Q may not have the height (boy, I love a tall guy), nor the features of a chinito, but he makes me happy. He supports my interests, he accepts me for who I am, and he helps me become the best I can be. What more could I ask for?