Because I am a certified lover boy since birth (as much as I would like to believe so), would you believe I had a cute little romantic not-so-love affair even at the least romantic day of the year – November first?
Believe it or not, I did. (Ang bangis! ;p)
This cute little romantic not-so-love affair started on November 1, 1996. The same year when I started to shift to first gear for babe hunting slalom marathon. There was this mysterious skinny girl about four years older than me. She had these large deep dark vivid eyes which made me wonder whether she was still alive or just one of the reasons why we are celebrating the occasion. Her radiant white skin contrasted the gloomy sight of black shirts, flickering candle lights and several multi-faceted objects sitting on the green lawn. It always brought a little smile on my face whenever I see her at the corner of my eye staring back at me. I honestly don’t know why.
My great granddaddy’s lot is about five meters away from their lot. Considering the number of people in their lot, they’re quite a small family. Although most of the people on their lot are female, my mysterious skinny girl stands out the most.
By November 1, 1997, I had already shifted to fifth gear for my babe hunting slalom marathon. I was so excited to go to the cemetery. I didn’t exactly know if it was just puberty or the thought of seeing my mysterious skinny girl that created some adrenalin rush in me – or maybe both. As their lot came ahead before our lot, I was able to pass by mysterious skinny girl’s family in a quite impressive fashion. With my back straight and my chin parallel to the ground, I strolled along the green lawn as if it was a red carpet. I made sure she noticed me.
On November 1, 1998, I just stayed at home. When Erap was elected president, it felt like All Saint’s Day everyday. That is because Erap was a saint. (Shit.)
On November 1, 1999, because of the hype of the coming “debatably new” millennium, I had already forgotten my mysterious skinny girl. I went to the cemetery not to see her again but to see some fresh faces (and figures).
It’s a taboo to wear red during funeral because people say that red is a happy color – it’s as if you’re happy that someone died. I didn’t know if it’s the same for All Saint’s Day but nevertheless, I intentionally wore vibrant red so girls can easily recognize a young hottie passing by the lonely cemetery.
And there she was, at the corner of my eye, my forgotten mysterious skinny girl also in vibrant red. “Just plain coincidence,” I thought to myself.
On November 1, 2000, I got a taste of my first sembreak. To show my unfathomable (meaning deep; I just used the word unfathomable so that I would appear clever) admiration to my Alma Mater, I wore my college shirt – a plain white shirt with a prominent university logo.
And there she was – wearing white. “This must be it,” I thought. “I have to know her name.” But how? A cemetery felt like an awkward place to create an ideal relationship. Through the years I had seen her become more and more beautiful. Her facial features became more and more distinct. Her every move became more and more refined. I had already seen her family as much as she had seen mine. There’s nothing wrong about asking her name, right?
But I felt something holding me back.
On November 1, 2001, I wore black. If she had also worn black at that time, it would no longer be a coincidence but destiny. I believed all the souls in the cemetery might have to do something with it.
Surprisingly, she did not appear.
I wondered why.
I began asking questions to myself.
I relived every moment that I saw her at the corner of my eye.
Nonetheless, she did not appear.
Two months after, I had a chance to visit the cemetery again. After the usual overflowing of tears and mascara, different howls and cries, Zest-O Orange and Goldilock’s Mamon in a usual burial ceremony, I had the chance to pass by our lot. I didn’t waste the opportunity to go to my mysterious skinny girl’s lot so that at least I could get to know her surname.
I wished I didn’t give in to my curiosity.
For I didn’t only got to know her surname, but also her full name, date of birth and yes, date of death.
She passed away on July 2001.
I would never forget those large deep dark vivid eyes looking at me as I stared down at the picture engraved on her tombstone as if she was telling me…
“Pengeng zesto” ;p
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