In an ideal world, my boyfriend would be like the sparkling princes you see in telenovelas or maybe, a bit of Henry Cavill sprinkled with Joshua Garcia. You know, someone who's excessively romantic, showers me with surprise gifts and dates, mingles seamlessly with any crowd, and whose wallet mirrors those of Taipans. Heck, I even dream of him adhering to my house rules as if they were holy commandments - the thought of used tissues and chip bags thrown at the trash can without any nagging is a dream.
But alas, reality unfolds in its unique ways, and I’m here dating a guy who’s as romantic as the boring Tinola and whose idea of a surprise is turning up on time for a date. His sociability? It's so pronounced that our goldfish seem more talkative. And his wallet, I kid you not, emulates the austerity of monks, while my house rules are nothing but a fun joke session for him.
But before you even start with the "aww, why are you with him", let me tell you about the priceless aspects of my beloved, shall we say, "project in progress."
While he may not be a Rico Yan reincarnate, he made me got to believe in magic. Why? Because he always manage to put my name on his top priority. No 'barkada hangouts' or 'ML marathons' can ever replace our cozy Netflix-and-tulog dates.
And oh boy, his patience. He listens to my never-ending dramas like a human diary. My petty rants about my demanding boss, that loud neighbor, or even the color of my manicure, he endures it all. He wears an expression of deep understanding as if he's decoding the mysteries of the universe.
And let's not forget about our nightly video calls. Despite his exhaustion from his daywork, he keeps an eye on me, his drooling Sleeping Beauty, through our virtual window. If that's not love, I don't know what is.
Food, the universal love language! He's like a walking menu, remembering my favorite dishes from our Samgyup dates to my soft spot for a simple Pancit Canton and what types of food are bad for my health condition. Now if he could just learn how to cook, not just watching from Hell Kitchen...
Then there's the sweetness in his little gestures. Carrying my heavy bag like it's stuffed with feathers, saying "I love you" with the sincerest of smiles, showing me in countless ways he’s not a player in this game called love. He’s here for the long haul, talking about growing old together, sitting on our porch, yelling at neighborhood kids. Sounds like a riot, doesn’t it?
So yes, while my boyfriend might not be Mr. Picture-Perfect, he's the genuine article, not just a glossy cover of a magazine. He's my real deal, and I wouldn't trade him for all the romantic, surprising, sociable, and rule-abiding millionaires in the world.
Now, if I could just get him to put the trash in its proper place...
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