And if in some future, fate affords another crossover, it is my hope that the affections I still cradle today already disappears, only for reasons of enduring a lifetime of friendship.
The slow, almost dragging pull-back commenced as instructed, after the decision to give up the idea that the Weatherman and I had chances of romance set me into the path of exploring. There were moments when the growing distance was tempered by my habit of checking his Facebook wall for his activities, or the Twitter updates he posted while I was offline. He would still remain the first person I'd look online when I wake up, or before I begin working at night, when I knew it was his bedtime. The stalking habit was unobtrusive, I would like to believe, and the only occasions I break the silence and send him an SMS is when his absence leads to longing; when there's nothing new to read on his social media accounts.
As much as I would like to walk away from his life, and mind my own affairs, just like I've always did before the events of February 3, the truth is, I have underestimated the attachment. It wasn't easy to step back and see him as a casual friend when I find him "liking" my Facebook posts, or putting a "star" on my Twitter updates, or worse, re-tweeting the same news, that both appealed to our senses. In all my experience forging bonds with other men, no one has gone so close as to what the Weatherman and I share aside from our past intimacies. For this reason, complete extraction may only happen when he falls in love with someone else, or he himself initiates the distance.
But no. He knew when to strike, and every time he does, all my attempts to escape his sphere go for nothing knowing I may never refuse his invitation to hang-out - even when it is for activities that hardly get my attention. And every time he does leaves me with questions I am afraid to find the answers:
"Free ka bukas ng gabi?" His SMS came unexpectedly. I was of course, pleasantly surprised.
"Gusto mo manood ng football sa Bulacan." I knew only of the sport because of FIFA. I stopped watching the spectacle after the Germany - Brazil match at Rio left me shouting expletives at the middle of the night.
"Sure what time tayo kita?"
"Mga 4pm sa Ayala, malapit sa office. 8 pm ang match." The subtext was quite easy to glean. Finally, all these bodybuilding preoccupation would be put to good use.
"Naghahanap lang ako ng kasama."
Why does my best hang outs never had labels?
Barely fifteen days after I have resolved to make a calculated retreat and here I am, more entrenched to the person who refuses to let go. I do not expect this renewal of bonds to lead to deeper, more romantic ties, but the chance to be with that one soul who inspires you in more ways you can count is enough to stay longer,
Hoping the memories subtlety created would make you inseparable, even if such tender moments only last an equivalent of a provincial bus ride.