Villa Royal

There’s this feeling you get when you’re into something… but then you suddenly step back and wonder if you’re really into it. Like you’re present, but also watching yourself from the outside.

I know I can be intense sometimes, but at my core, I’m someone who can peel herself away from everything. A friend once told me, “You’re too sentimental.” And honestly, I agreed. I am, but only when I allow myself to be. I’ve learned I can detach too. To some, I’m a good friend. To others, a better one. To most, I’m hard to read.

When I’m getting to know someone new, I can show up, see you, spend time with you… but am I emotionally there? I don’t know. Half the time I feel like I’m just going with the flow. Someone asked me, “So what could we be?” and I paused. It was a big question. I had no answer. I’m seeing this guy and I keep thinking… could I really do this?

I don’t know. Being single is hard but trying to change that feels even harder. I had no idea. I guess I'm just so used to feeling so secured with myself. I’m so deep into self-love, into this independent-woman version of myself, that giving it up feels like my blood is slowly being drained out of me. No joke. A friend asked, “Isn’t your goal to have a family someday?”

It was. It still is. It’s probably my ultimate dream. 

Do I really have to go through all this just to find my match? Sometimes I swear I belong in a different era. Am I even 100%, hook, line and sinker, balls deep into this goal?  I’ve put so much effort into meeting people. For most of my friends, it’s the normal route. For me? It feels like I’m overexerting. I feel exhausted. 

Believe me when I say that I'm trying really hard these days. Because if it was just up to me, I'd probably spend my days at home watching some kilig series, sketching, doing my walks and reading some good romance novels. But I'm kind of possessed these days. I'm trying to break a routine. I'm trying to get out of my shell because hello, we're not 16 anymore. When I'm old and gray, at least I get to have stories to tell. You get what I mean?

Speaking of novels, I’m too much of a romance-novel girl. My own story feels short compared to the ones I read. Those pocketbooks with series like Villa Royal, where the lead men live on an island. They’re successful, good-looking, magnetic. And somehow, life gave me my own version. Or so I thought.

There’s Brad, the guy from New York who flew all the way here to meet me.

Damien, the Turkish legal counsel who gave up everything to start anew.

Lance, good-looking, same sector, solid guy.

And Luis, the guy I met a year ago who came back wanting for more.

Perhaps, some were just in for the cameo. Perhaps some could be for more. 

I don't know and I will never know. I feel like I am one date away from a breakthrough.

Because maybe, just maybe, the real story hasn’t even started yet. 

Seriously, How do you do this?

Romantic Baboy

“So, can we unsingle ourselves?” he asked.

“Why not?” I replied.

His smile grew wider. “Does that mean…?”

“Give me three days,” I said.

I’ll be honest. This was never in my plans. This was never how I imagined it would be.

But random and impulsive chapters have always found their way into my life. Funny, because I’ve always seen myself as a passionate planner. Old school. By the book. Follow the rules. And yet, doing something out of the ordinary gives me a thrill.

The random long drives. The biglang liko into a less-traveled path. The impromptu encounters. Call it rebelling against my goody-goody image. After a well-planned week, I crave a breath of fresh air. I crave variety.

It was meant to be a joke.

Three days? Anyone who truly knows me knows how long I take to think things through. I prepare. I mull things over. I contemplate. Big time. I lose sleep before arriving at a single conclusion.

My being single is a mystery in itself.

I once met someone for the first time, and she asked, “Why have you been single for a long time?”

I went quiet. For years, I’ve laughed that question off. Friends know how high my standards are, so I never feel the need to explain. Family members have slowly stopped asking. But a near stranger asking me so casually caught me off guard.

It baffled me more than I expected.

Modesty aside, I’ve always been surrounded by boys, then men, who liked me. Some confessed. Others gave up after realizing how hard it is to woo me. I’m a hopeless case.

Her question sparked something deeper. Bakit nga ba?

First, I believe in love. It’s not as if I’ve been badly hurt. In fact, I’ve never felt that intense, shattering pain from a failed relationship. Second, I’ve had good role models. The kind that make you believe in lasting love, and also quietly fear not finding the same. Lastly, I have requirements. Yes, requirements. Non-negotiable.

But how do you compress all that into one neat answer?

She waited, eager and curious. I smiled, a little confused. I couldn’t brush it off with a laugh the way I do with friends. They know me. This woman barely did, yet she genuinely wanted to.

So I settled on the least complicated truth. “I just haven’t found him yet.”

“But are you dating?” she asked.

Fair question.

To be fair, I’ve had my share of dates and getting-to-know-yous. Are they enough? In that department, I can hardly convince myself. I’d love to shout “Yes!” for dramatic effect, but who am I kidding? Sometimes I go on dates simply because I want company, because I feel social. Does that even count?

Lately I’ve been asking myself, when I go out on dates, is my heart fully in it? Or am I only giving half of myself?

I’m still figuring that out.

The most fascinating part of self-discovery is actually spending time with yourself. These days, I play golf on weekends, meet friends, or take myself out on solo dates. The more time I spend alone, the more convinced I am that I am capable. I can hold my own. I can entertain myself. I don’t get bored being alone.

That scares me. LOL.

Who needs a man when you can take care of yourself? Scary, right?

And yet, my greatest dream, one I repeat over and over, is to settle down and have a little family of my own. How does that dream come true when I’m so good at being me, myself, and I?

Why is it so hard for me to open up to someone who might be a real partner?

Why do I feel like one slightly disastrous date is already a sign of failure? If he’s late. If he has one trait I don’t like. Why does it feel so final?

But then again, if we’re talking about self-discovery, maybe part of it is allowing opportunities in. Maybe it’s letting someone be brave enough to ask.

So when someone says, “Can we unsingle ourselves?”

I thought, how can I cross the bridge if I refuse to step onto it?

Bahala na si Batman.