The Dream of Someone

Taal Volcano and Lake from Tagaytay

The past couple of weeks, I saw a couple of concerts, got to go on a long drive to Nueva Ecija and La Union, hung out over drinks at my home with good friends in the industry, and almost won a New York-themed Quiz Night. All of these represent things that I love—music, cars, friends and, well, Quiz Nights. But none of them generated the same level of excitement as when I get a text or email message from you.

I was involved with someone for so long that I had almost forgotten what it was like to like someone new—the yearning for even the slightest bit of attention; the thrill of getting it; figuring out the appropriate thing to say without sounding too obvious, too blasé or too needy; and basically just basking in the glow of a fresh, innocent little crush.

And it IS just a crush. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself. I mean, I  think I’ve liked you since the first time I saw you at _______ waiting for ______. Back then I couldn’t do anything because of the aforementioned involvement, but since the break-up, I’ve gradually started reaching out and testing the waters, so to speak. Circumstances have made regular communication convenient, and for that I’m grateful. But I long to be more forward and daring.

For most of my life I’ve been so conscious about what other people thought of me that I’ve become meek and perpetually agreeable. But I’ve been trying this new thing of being more expressive of my emotions and letting the chips fall where they may. I’m still not argumentative and confrontational, but at least now I’m more assertive and vocal about what I think and how I feel. It’s cost me friendships and professional pitfalls, but I think, overall, I’m all the better for it.

Which is why I’m not sure why I haven’t asked you out yet. Maybe I’m still waiting for the right time, or maybe I’m still trying to “build a foundation” so you don’t think I’m a complete loser. Or maybe both those reasons are complete bullshit and I’m just too chicken to jump off the ledge and tell you how I think you’re smart, sophisticated and funny. That I enjoy our chats—on and offline—and that hearing from you is a definite highlight of my day. That I value your opinion on things and am supremely flattered that you value mine just as much.

Basically, too chicken to tell you how much I like you.

I’m sure that moment will come. I’ve done it before and faced varying degrees of rejection and acceptance. I mean, that’s how it is, right? If you don’t take risks, you’ll never get anywhere. That’s what all great philosophers, leaders and businesspeople say.

Somehow, this time, things feel different. It feels fragile and precious. Like a bubble floating in the air, reflecting the colors of the rainbow as it catches the afternoon sun. I’m afraid to touch it and have it pop in my hand.

I don’t want to mess it up.