the perfect person

Once in a while there are forwarded messages that are actually worth reading. Quite a long read but stay with it til the end and find yourself nodding your head in agreement.

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The Perfect Person
J. M. Whitaker

For as long as I can remember, I have been searching for the perfect girl. Since I was old enough to begin longing for female companionship, I have been on the hunt. I guess it started out as just a simple dream or fantasy, not unlike most of us. The strange thing about it was that it never stayed just a dream or a fantasy. The more people I dated, the more times I was let down, the more I hungered for that perfect person, the one that would fill all of my needs and desires, the one that would never let me down.

I dated girl after girl. Some of them were great while others got me into some trouble. Some of them made me laugh, but a lot of them made me cry. Through my journey, I found a lot of joy and a lot of sorrow, a lot of happiness and a lot of pain, but never the perfect girl. I had dreamed about her. Dark hair, darker eyes, a slim figure tinted golden brown from the sun. She had an accent and could play the cello. She would love to talk, but wouldn't expect me to talk too much. She would always ask me how my day was and would always have a smile on her face; absolute perfection.

I began to devise methods in how I would meet the girls I would date. I knew I wanted an intelligent girl, so I hung out in libraries and museums. I meet this real crazy girl at a library after school one day. She was smart and sexy and, well? crazy. I would rather not go into a lot of details about it. It's just say she had some real deep-seated anxieties about our relationship and, consequentially, our break up.

I knew I wanted an artistic girl, so I went to music stores and coffee shops, I even tried a couple of classical concerts. I met this wonderfully cute girl who dressed really dark and loved to write poetry. She was great, we used to stay up all night long talking about the silliest things, but she ended up dumping me for some guy who did drugs and rode a motorcycle.

I got into a car accident with a girl driving a Pontiac Sunfire. She had no driver's license or car insurance, but she did have a really great smile and the prettiest hair. Instead of calling the police, we called in sick and went out to eat. We dated for a while but eventually came across an irreconcilable difference in opinions. She didn't always feel the need to come "straight home" after work. Okay, to be honest, toward the end of our relationship, she rarely came home at all.

Then there was the girl from the International House of Pancakes. She was an exact replica of my personality. I mean if you had met us both over some Internet chat room, you would swear we were the same person using multiple screen-names. Sounds sweet, huh? Have you ever considered marrying yourself? Have you ever thought about growing old together, just you and yourself? We both found that the whole idea of finding that "perfect person" was to find someone different from yourself to fulfill the empty spots within you.

I searched every where. I left no rock unturned, no leaf moved aside, but to no avail. After much pain and heartache, I began to believe that the perfect girl just did not exist. Then one day, I found her.

Her name was Malia. She was from Hawaii, raised in Italy. She wore silk pajama pants to bed. She had written a novel. She loved the beach and hated cats, just like me. She had silky, dark and curly hair that swayed perfectly if the breeze was right. She had a caramel colored body, etched out of a block of pure perfection, and her face was that of an angel. From the very first time I saw her, I could not seem to take my eyes away from hers. She was like a siren, calling my name, beckoning me closer to her, even when she was asleep. The attraction was complete, with no faults, no annoyances. Every time she spoke she mesmerized me and every time she moved she amazed me. She was... well, perfect. Oh, and did I mention she played the cello? We spent all the extra time we had together We spent so much time together that we decided to move in together. We were paying rent on two places, but one of them was doing nothing but collecting dust. We would sit on the porch when it rained and hold each other. We would lay on the beach and soak up a sweet combination of sunrays and pina coladas. Life was good. No, life was perfect and I knew it just couldn't possibly get any better than it was right then and there.

Two years later, Malia left me for a career-opportunity at a really prominent university in Europe. There were no harsh words, no angry feelings, not even any sad good-byes She was so perfect that if she wanted to leave, I wanted it for her. That is, until she was gone.

I cried for days, and began to drink for weeks after that. I felt as if my life was over, that the only reason that I had existed was gone, and every breath I took from that moment on was a futile attempt to hold on to something I later found I never had: The Perfect Love.

Malia was perfect. She was perfect in each and every single way, but was not. Our love for each other was a deeply committed one, but it was far from perfect. I know that now, but if I could go back in time to tell myself that in an attempt to save myself from all of that pain and suffering, I fear I would not have listened to myself.

I slept with many women, sometimes a different girl every week. I drank excessively and spent all of my money on temporary satisfaction. Anything to ease the pain. But the pain did not ease, it only grew stronger. It became a vicious circle of self-inflicted torture that eventually brought me to my knees and forced me to open my eyes to the real world. But not before it made me a bitter man.

I was wiser, but to this day, the decisions made left a coldness in my eyes that made my heart appear as lead to anyone who dared look. I became a loner, staying home on the weekends, saving my money for a healthy but lonely retirement, having accepted my fate. I was to be alone for the rest of my life. Kathy with a K. Actually, her name is spelled Kathyrn. Quite peculiar, but I didn't think so until later. For the longest time, I never even knew her name. But she was a sight for sore and lonely eyes. I saw her at work. I was her boss (actually, I was her boss' boss) and did not want to risk the chance of even speaking to her. She was just too beautiful, and I had become a beast with a past too horrible to mention. I would just watch her as she passed my office every day. She didn't walk, she frolicked, and I would sneak out for a break whenever she did just to watch that frolicking. She smiled every time someone spoke to her, a smile like the early morning sun, and her eyes were so dark that you couldn't see her pupils, only the glimmering from the light that made her eyes look like two bright stars. I was under her spell and I didn't even know her name. One day, watching her outside, I convinced myself to ask around about her. Find out her name and maybe even find out if she was seeing someone. Just as I had decided that she spoke to me.

Kathy with a K. She ended up asking me out, you know. I told her I couldn't that night because I had to work late. Actually, I was too scared. I called her and asked her if she wanted to go to Starbucks after work the next day and she agreed. It turned out to be the most romantic night of both of our lives. We were both still pretty new in town and didn't really know our way around. I had no idea what I was going to do or where I was going to take her next so I winged it the whole way. Like I said, it turned out to be the
most romantic night of both of our lives. It was perfect.

She was not perfect, but neither was I. We both carried a truckload of emotional baggage and we both had a mountain of flaws. But it was perfect. She would always forget to plug in her cell phone at night, but I would always remind her I couldn't do laundry worth a flip, but she showed me how. She could never get to work on time, and she hated to drive, but we both had to be at work on time so I drove us both there. Whenever she was slacking I was always right over her shoulder, and when I would lose track of what I was trying to do, she would help to keep me focused. We complemented each other in every single way. Neither of us was perfect, but we were perfect for each other.

When you're out there looking for that perfect person keep these things in mind. People change, no matter how hard they try not to. As you grow older you mature, and with each new level of maturity come different ideas, different needs and wants. The person who was perfect for you at twenty could be the person you hate when you're thirty-five. You have to find some one who will grow with you, change with you, laugh with you and cry with you. A person who fills in where you lack, a person whom you can fill in for when they are lacking. But what about the perfect person, you ask? They do not exist. Even Malia was not perfect because the perfect girl in my dreams was supposed to stay with me.

There are no perfect people, only people who are perfect for each other

save the date!

Aldo finally made our Save the Date cards today - and it is definitely a far cry from what I was attempting to do... I guess I will have to be content with being the writer (and secretary/organizer/calendar) in this partnership and leave the art direction to him!

The No Frills Option

The Neruda Option

* Side kwento: this picture was taken 3 years ago at Verde Island, Mindoro - we went snorkelling the whole morning and I went back to the resort with 2 deep cuts on my right foot and ankle because I accidentally stepped on dead corals. Aldo thought I was kidding but when he saw blood, he was paler than I was. Since it was an open wound, I couldn't swim in the pool.

wedding gift wish list

Since we're not going to live in Manila, toasters, rice cookers, irons, or hair dryers are definitely out of the question. Instead, here's my wish list (in no particular order):

Scrabble Deluxe Edition

Aldo & I are hooked on this - we've taken our Scrabble set with us to Puerto Galera and Cebu... and hopefully our wedding will be a good enough excuse to indulge in the Deluxe Set.


Cranium

My first encounter with Cranium was at Ed's... it's a pretty fun game, combining Pictionary, Charades, shape-sorting, and name-that-tune in one board game. It should be an entertaining Saturday evening post-dinner game for at least 4 people.

Twister

Who wouldn't want Twister?

Taboo

Another fun game that brings out the competitive and creative spirit in everyone.

It should be funny to have a separate card that says: "International flight standards only allow 25kg per passenger, so gifts that are flat, educational, and contained in a box are preferable." Hehehe.

prenuptial pick-me-up

As a soon-to-bid-goodbye gift, M gave me Wedding Zen: Calming Wisdom for the Bride. It's a pretty compact yet comprehensive book, with chapters ranging from how to simplify wedding planning, to how to deal with your Maid of Honor's ugly date. In true Zen tradition, the author doesn't need a lot of words to convey what she means -- bottomline is, it's your wedding and the most important thing is what you and your fiance want.

Funny how sometimes we get caught up in all the frills - color, cake, flowers, save the date cards, invitations, etcetera, etcetera - when all we need are the basics. I used to think that since I'm not much of a frou-frou girl, planning my wedding should be straightforward... but 6 months into it, I've already badgered Aldo about deadlines, schedules, and layouts without realizing it. Ugh. New mantra: simplify.

I agree with the synopsis: it is a great prenuptial pick-me-up and reminder to focus on what is important. Thanks a bunch M! I'll definitely throw my bouquet in your direction!

prenup comps

Instead of a beach, a park, or a garden, I'm opting for prenups that are spontaneous and unguarded. Let's just hope that I'll forget there's a photographer around. Hehehe.

together

Aldo got hired today as a graphic designer for a big architectural firm in Canada and we're both proud and excited!

We've both had our fair share of job-hopping but this time around, it feels different -- maybe because where we are at now affects us, rather than just me or him. Since we got engaged, we have developed a habit of being more and more a part of each other's decisions, and everyday life... and I couldn't be happier about the swirl of things. Just like a kid on a candy store full of otherwise-adult issues like immigration sponsorship, visas, budgets, and apartments -- I am amazed, overhwelmed, and happy that everyday is a new adventure. The best part is -- I have Aldo to share it all with.

Thanks for all the help Kuya Jess... + basta Ikaw!

baby steps to vanity

I have never been a vain girl. In high school, I wasn't one of those girls who spent half of lunch break in the washrooms with their big kikay kits... nor did I remotely care about my weight or my hair when prom was fast approaching. Even in college, I never wore face powder or lipstick to class. I was the jeans-kamisetashirt-sneakers-backpack kind of girl. My only remote attempt at vanity was bringing a brush, Evian face spray (during summer), and a bottle of cologne in the car. It wasn't any Gabriella sign of feminism - I just couldn't care less.

But weddings (or is it age), I have realized, change all that. Since I will inevitably be the center of attention on my wedding day, not to mention tons of photos, I've decided to kick my vanity level up a notch. No sense in being frumpy on my wedding day - unless I decide to get married in jeans of course.

No, I do not walk around with make-up paraphernalia that can rival a MAC counter nor do I go to work with full make-up on... it's not that drastic. Call me a late bloomer, but in the past few months, I have religiously put on moisturizer, learned how to occasionally put on make-up (and that just means powder, blush, and lipstick), and started dabbling on physical activities to lose my baby fat (ha! does it still fall under baby fat?!?). So far, it has been fun, especially all the physical activities - bikram yoga, badminton, football, and now wall climbing. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that moving back to Manila won't be a speedbump!

confessions of a bridalmagazine-holic

On my last day in Vancouver, Aldo and I were in Safeway, waiting for our turn at the check-out counter with a grocery basket full of chocolates when he spotted a rack of random magazines. He saw a Modern Bride in it, and began teasing me about finally having the license to buy a bridal magazine.

Quirky as it may seem, I refused to pick up a bridal magazine before I got engaged. I used to feel I didn't have a right to those things without the all-important ring on my finger... was afraid I would be tempting fate to do so, and that the bride on the cover might give me a smirk if I tried opening her magazine. (The worst thing she can do is throw me the bouquet, right?)

So at that check-out counter, Aldo got me my first bridal magazine. Little did I know that I would get hooked.

Three bridal magazines over the months that followed, I have realized that:
1. Bridal gown ads are repetitive - what Modern Bride has, Martha Stewart and Brides will most likely have.
2. Seeing a lot of beautiful gowns makes a confused girl out of me.
3. A lot of I-WANT-BUT-NOT-NECESSARILY-NEED wedding things are in those magazines.
4. I want my reception to be in a place with white walls, floor to ceiling windows, and big white drapes... and there is no such place in Manila.
5. Bridal magazines might even cost more than a hair & make-up trial session with some HMU artists in Manila.

I confess that I'm a bridalmagazine-holic (insert applause here.), and it's been 2 months since my last bridal magazine purchase. Thank God I have stopped having magazine cravings, and I've started pinning down what I really really want vs. what looks nice in magazines. There is hope for fickle-minded folks like me after all.

Ugh, I do hope that my magazines won't really result to overweight luggage when I go home to Manila.

their leap of faith

Last night, O & S had an important announcement to make over pizza and pasta -- O quit and they are going to move back to Manila in 2 weeks. Life surely has its own express lane where things happen faster than you can say bibbitibobbitiboo.

I've always admired O & S. They've been married for 3 years but they are still very much like newlyweds. In them I see what marriage is all about -- laughter, tears, and sharing a life together.

"O's/S's leap of faith" is inscribed in their wedding rings. I asked O about it and she said that when they decided to get married, she asked S why he wanted to marry her after less than a year of dating. His answer: he was ready to take a leap of faith.

As we bid our goodnights and walked into separate directions, O & S walked hand-in-hand, their steps as light as their hearts, into a new adventure - another leap of faith that they are taking together.

C

Snippets of our past, present, and future -- shaken, stirred, and carefully balanced -- will complete the day we finally become one. At the very heart of these elements are special people who have been with us throughout our journey. Selecting friends and bottling them up in categories has been quite difficult and sentimental -- opening doors that were once forcibly locked and ignored.

I thought that all would be forgotten and that there would be no reason to revisit harsh memories of troubled years -- but maybe weddings are also a time to heal and to forget. I now open the proverbial box of my childhood as Aldo and I put pen to paper and start our entourage list.

I had one best friend throughout my childhood - C - and I thought I would keep her forever. When we were in high school, we would always imagine how our prince charmings would be like, and when we would meet them. Summers of our growing-up years were filled with climbing hills in Baguio, playing air hockey in Glico's, ice skating, and excitedly choosing Tickles stationery
. We had a horrible prom (but got excited dressing up for it anyway) , caught cute boys during the fair, experienced alcohol and had our first high school dances together. Before we knew it, we were in college -- exchanging letters filled with stories of bewilderment, excitement, and frustration.

On my sophomore year, I moved to her campus and thought that our fun growing-up years would have a second chapter. Amidst adolescence, boys, and new-found freedom, we discovered that our childhood could never be rekindled. Now our conversations are polite and strained -- no more witty repartee, no more giggling-til-we-fall-asleep-sleepovers, and no more little notes to share.

I'm hoping that when I get to see C in Manila, the adolescent tears, laughter, and secrets kept within the folds of our shared notes overcome our adult stubborness -- and things will miraculously fall into place. After all these years, I'm sure we have both grown up and have learned to accept each other for who we really are. I pray that C and I will not only be polite, civil, or strained, because growing up wouldn't have been the same without her.

With apprehension and a healthy dose of happy memories, I complete our entourage list.

Bridesmaid: C