Dear Timothy,

It would seem silly that I am writing you this letter while we are actually chatting in messenger. I dunno but for some strange reason I felt the urge to write you a letter, or at least near a letter as I’m not writing this by hand neither will I lick a stamp to send it to you in Seattle.

I meant to give you a love letter. Where promises are suppose to be made and undying vows are to be professed. Aren’t love letters suppose to be like that... tug the heart strings and make people somewhat nostalgic. But see, I really haven’t written any love letter to any one in my life before so I think I will fail on the heart string tugging and nostalgia. Now just thinking about that is making me nervous. The same kinda nervous I feel whenever you ask me if I want you. I feel my breathe catching and my heart pounding like a little girl caught telling a very big lie. Except, I am not telling a lie. It’s the enormity of how much I want you that makes me jumpy.

My attempt to even tell you how much would fall short. I would never be able to detail how much I want you. And while I am physically attracted to you, I am equally attracted to you. The every inch of you. I am attracted to things that capture your interests, and those that enthrall your imagination, the people who have helped you become who you are, the people you’ve touched with your being, elements that challenge you as well as empower you. And the more I know you, the more I want you. It is like an unquenchable desire in my heart that only grows more each moment I discover a new aspect of you as well as stress that which I already know.

It’s strange actually, how pieces fall in their proper places when we talk and spend more time together. How we’ve both felt that being together is like breathing...so effortless and so natural, is astonishing. And while at moments we have experienced the difficulty of arguments and fights, even when we do it, it’s not something that cuts us up and wounds us. How the desire to resolve the issue, how we honestly exchange our views without so much theatrics and drama, how we even forgive or let go is amazing. You are, the singular person in my life, who is able to somehow speak to me and read me without even trying.

I do not know how long you and I will be together. But I know that even if time is not something I can be certain of, I can show and express to you how much valuable you have become to me every moment. I want you to know and accept that despite the distance, the spaces in our togetherness binds us stronger. Despite the differences in our nature, we fill each other with more wisdom and understanding and care. Despite our mutual affection for one another, we are becoming better by not tying each other down with the past and fears brought by it.

I have no promises to give. No vows to profess. I simply want to reaffirm what we both already know. So maybe this isn’t really gonna be much of a love letter. But thank you. Thank you for making this relationship different from all the others. Thank you for being a wonderful partner and lover. Thank you for being the man that you are. I give you my trust as I accept yours. I give you my loyalty as I accept yours. I give you my understanding, as I accept yours. Because how I see it is we are standing together yet not too near together as to shadow another.

~D

I do not normally write people’s names in my posts. I wanted to protect their identity. I felt that if it was done to me I’d feel someone just pulled my pants down in front of everyone. So I usually hide them behind some alias of some sort. And when I do hide them behind an alias most times I myself can’t figure out who am I talking about (yes, that’s one of my oddities).

But right now, I will write of a person and use his real name. After all for every rule, there could always be an exception and I choose him to be the exception. Let me assure you that this person knows I blog, even if he has no clue what the URL is. He knows I am writing of him, even if he doesn’t know what I write about. Why I use his real name is not some enigma. It’s just there can be no other name that can substitute it. Do not get me wrong. I tried to think of a different alias, and even tried to use one of his own but it does not fit rightly on how I view him. There is no harmony and balance achieved unless I use his name.

So that’s the way it’s going to be whenever I will write of him. There will be no other replacement. For his name itself is perfectly suited just the way it is.

If love does not know how to give and take without restrictions, it is not love,

but a transaction that never fails to lay stress on a plus and a minus. ~ Emma Goldman

Even as early as children we are taught to be competitive. It is instilled by our parents to get the highest marks, the first pick in soccer, to win in every sport or contest. And we try as much as we can to do it to please them and gain more favor in their eyes. But there are moments we lose also. While there are parents who will not tolerate losing as they equate this to a form of failure, some parents try to console by saying its only a game and the important thing is having fun. As children, we try to agree but deep inside we can’t wait to get back and play again, compete again, prove them wrong again, come out as a winner again. After all isn’t that how we all came to be where we are at now, survival of the fittest.

As we transition from childhood to adulthood, our sense of competitiveness doesn’t die. It only gets honed as we move from the playgrounds to the rat race. We become more cunning and more cut-throat. Now it’s not about having fun but winning and getting what we want whether it’s the next raise, the office with the view, the latest steal, or even an argument.

But in reality, when all the chips are down, it’s not about who has the bigger score but how we played the game. We know this but often forget while in the middle of the game when only the number of goals are counted. So we end up shoving people, stepping on them, hurting them and then justifying shit happens like the pain we cause others is some freak of nature or natural calamity that only God can explain.

As I ran the treadmill today I tried to reassemble the events that transpired earlier with the fight I had with someone. I knew it was my fault, I knew that as much as I will try to justify the way I treated him I knew I was only trying to convince myself and poorly at it. What started as a casual banter soon became a competition for me. I wanted to be the one holding the power in the relationship which is not really good for me neither am I qualified to. As I looked down the treadmill screen and read 3.48 miles, I felt my body was still pushing itself when usually I would be somewhat tired already. It was adrenaline, I reasoned, even though I knew deep down it was a cocktail of anger, guilt, and regret that was driving me to run more. And it was fear that was keeping me from stopping. I knew that when my legs stop moving I would have to come home and face the answers to why I did what I did, but it was the greater fear of the consequences of what I have done that was keeping me on the treadmill.

But like all games, there are time limitations. I can only run so much and had to eventually get into the decision round. I suppose when we’ve brainwashed ourselves to think that there are only winners and losers in a game then it does get difficult for us to accept decisions that do not favor us. I knew that I was going to lose this one no matter how brilliant my plan is. I can never justify what I have done, and even if I could (which is so unlikely) I wouldn’t be able to live with myself because I know I’d only try to deceive myself and him. But then when you really think about it, does it really matter who wins an argument when the cost of winning means losing the person you’ve had an argument with? And when you think of it in those terms, does it really matter that you’ve lost when you’re actually winning a human being, saving a relationship, growing in understanding, becoming a better person...

To humbly take the decisions of a lost fight or to accept the consequences of our poor judgement calls are necessary pains. Somehow by confessing to him that it was my over-competitiveness that caused the frakkin’ mess earlier made me realize my weakness and turn it into strength. After being such a bad player today, I also realized that when you want to be in a relationship with someone it means not being in competition against that person. After all, it’s not a relationship if one strives to win something by defeating the one you are connected to.

What though the radiance which was once so bright

Be now for ever taken from my sight,

Though nothing can bring back the hour

Of splendour in the grass, of glory in the flower;

We will grieve not, rather find

Strength in what remains behind;

In the primal sympathy

Which having been must ever be;

In the soothing thoughts that spring

Out of human suffering;

In the faith that looks through death,

In years that bring the philosophic mind.

“Don’t worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4pm on some idle Tuesday.” ~ Mary Schmich

No, Miss Schmich. I was not blindsided at 4 PM on a some idle Tuesday but at 7 PM tonight. I became a victim of a guy indecently exposing his pecker and so close to being a victim of sexual assault. By the time I have published this my hands would’ve stopped shaking, the angry tears stinging my eyes have stopped falling, my breathing would be calmer, my body would be an image of serenity again. But like all things seen, everything outward will contradict the turbulence happening within. The chaos in my mind, the fear that beats in my heart, the hostility that would continue to course through my veins.

I was seventeen when I was raped. I told my father and he replied that I had it coming. My naiveté made my entire ordeal my fault. I believe there was some part of it that was true. Until now I think that if just had a decent sex education or made myself aware of the depravity of man I would have prevented what happened to me. Even if it took some years for me to move forward I was able to. Now I’m guarded. Now I am responsible. Now I do not put myself in situations that would compromise myself. You will never see me intoxicated that I cannot drive or bring myself home. You will never see me wear provocative clothes that will solicit a guy’s unwanted lust. You will never see me in places “unsafe”. I wasn’t worried, but I promised myself I will no longer be the accused when I am suppose to be a victim of a crime.

It is not fair that within ten seconds of your life everything that you’ve worked for the last thirteen years will be ineffectual. It is not fair that despite the fact that a woman is just sitting at the bus stop wearing jeans, a shirt, a winter jacket and a cap she will be in danger of rape. It is not fair that because of that single incident I would feel paranoid over every place and every guy. It is not fair that a man can scorn a woman’s gender. It is not fair that any person could bring me close to self-loathing again for being a woman.

I do not feel “lucky” that the bus finally came before you had a chance to put your filthy hands on me. I do not feel “better” calling the cops and having to retell them what you did to me. I do not feel “safer” just because I am in the confines of my house. You may not have touched me but I felt the danger of my life as you stood above me while I look up to see you holding your willy with your left hand and your right hand reaching to grab my head. You may not have penetrated me but the wildness in your eyes as lust consumed any form of reason in you burned my being. Your hand may not have reached me but the momentary aggression I felt towards the police officer who blamed me seemed like you did. You may not have touched me but I feel every inch of me violated as worse as being raped.

I may not be a rape victim based on the judicial definition of the term “rape” but it doesn’t make any lesser the trauma I am going through.

I know chivalry is somewhat extinct, it has grown old as the medieval times the word has come from. Young people don’t court one another anymore. The damsel in distress does not get saved. And most of all we don’t write love letters.

But this one is intended to be a love letter. But I think if you ever read this you’d categorize me as one of the many crazy bitches you’ve dated and give me an “it’s not you, it’s me” speech. For starters, you don’t exist. Let me rephrase that... you do exist, I’m just unaware of your existence. Somewhere out there you are living life and one day you and I will meet, fall in love in time, and be like those fairy-tale books with a picture of a prince and princess together and the words “happily ever after”. This is what my future tells me. Or rather what I am suppose to believe in. The kind of love that constricts your heart and give you a stomach full of butterflies. The kind of love that lasts all seasons. The kind of love that you just can’t get enough. The kind of love that triggers your jaded belief because it’s 2009 and times have changed dramatically. Young people don’t go through the process of starting a relationship naturally. Nowadays things have evolved to drunken (and sober) one-night stands. Start a relationship while still in one. Stubbornly staying in a toxic one. And most times people just opt to cohabit and test the waters, even throw a kid in the mélange usually unplanned. We try to salvage broken relationships and delude ourselves things will go further and improve in a stagnant one. As if these aren’t stupid enough, people marry and divorce so fast even if it’s been quite clear that shacking up, having a baby, or getting a diamond ring are just band aids to deep rooted problems that end up festering and damaging us more. Everyone makes poor choices at times that should have taught us to know better and wise up. But more often than not, we simply repeat our past.

Maybe I do have an old soul as what some people say. Some part of me is old-school and a bit ancient, but it seems everything now is rushed and prematurely forced. We have a quick fix for almost anything, we can have instant meals, and technology is helping us get from one place to another faster. Everyone is running a race, going where is something I have not figured out. We want to get going now, experience things now. And while there is nothing wrong in seizing the moment and living life to the fullest, aren’t some things suppose to happen naturally or even effortlessly? Look at the leaves that change with the passing of seasons, or a baby developing to a toddler or the passing of the day from sunrise to sunset. Don’t you think that there should be some sort of progression in a relationship as well? We jump into bed with someone before we form a friendship with them. And despite the knowledge that such “relationship” is devoid of any foundation we still push forward hoping it will work out still. Which of course is futile as things man builds without a sturdy foundation are meant to fall apart. We’re ensnared in this vicious cycle and try to avoid getting hurt by evading the problem or running away from it like a game of dodgeball. But it seems to me that I am getting hit more and hurt more and benched more. And with each defeat I find it harder to pick myself back up. I’ve grown tired already and lately I’ve been wondering if all this energy I invest on this love crap is worth it. The sardonic side of me knows nothing lasts forever so why bother to continue playing. I should be smart. Play safe. Stay guarded.

I am not erotophobic neither am I frigid, but can we slow down a little. Let me wrap my mind around exactly why you want to be with me and not the bajillion other girls out there. Part of me secretly feels disdain everytime you just can’t wait to get my clothes off when I am wanting to know first how your day went and share some laughter with you. I feel nervous and pressured everytime you talk about getting me to bed. I may not always understand why a guy needs to cover bases so urgently when there’s no World Series to win. I hope you won’t find it emasculating that I want to know you more first. I am not playing hard to get, I will sleep with you and do so with passion when it feels right. I can just ask you to “go with me” on a torn scrap of paper 6th grade-style, or if you like you can just read the signs. Don’t worry, it will be loud and clear. I will show zero interest in other people. I will set aside what I am doing if you need my help. I will show genuine interest in the things you love. And the most obvious sign, I will just ask you if you want to despite the thundering beat of my heart. Well that and the radiant love sick look on my face the moment you walk in the room.

I believe that one of the best parts of having a someone is letting them know they aren’t just anyone. It makes me happy when your eyes sparkle with pride and your face light up, especially knowing I am the reason behind your pleasure. I will not just do the things you like how you like it, I will do my best to evolve as you evolve. I will go the extra mile to show to you how much you mean to me and keep it fresh and exciting even after the beginning of our relationship passes. So please accept the note I leave on top of your shirt as you get off the shower to get dressed for work. Don’t be frightened when I tell you we need to talk because I simply respect your opinion and have a desire to know what you think. Please accept my offer to give you a massage after a hard days work. When I ask “why?” please don’t think I’m being subservient, I actually want to understand you more. And if for you defying the laws of nature isn’t necessary for me to rekindle the feelings that a budding summer romance possesses, I will still reciprocate and echo the passion you feel for me and this is something I will do constantly. With today’s standard of disposable relationships being the norm, my effort should speak volumes.

All I ask is that you recognize these gestures and not take them or me for granted, as I promise to never take you for granted. I know that I come off as intimidating and challenging, but despite my tough exterior I am sensitive and have soft side like all women. Because my heart has been broken in so many places already I find myself getting hurt more easily because of the pre-existing cracks on it. I know I will come off disinterested and guarded. Believe me when I say that I am not doing this to deliberately hurt you or undermine your interest. Don’t take it personally, it’s just who I am. I have good reason not to trust men and their shady ways. I’ve been lied to, deceived, taken advantaged of, led on, and belittled just to name a few. As much as I know that it’s unfair for me to make you “pay” for the errs previous men before you have made with me, please be patient and understand that they have left questions in my mind and my heart is something I protect the most. Despite the fact that I may keep you at a certain distance until a certain level of faith is formed, I hope that you will discover every aspect of me and my world. Because the truth is I wish nothing more than to trust again, this time in you.