By Philip M. Lustre Jr.
(Author's Note: I have posted and reposted this article three or four times. I did it every time I feel the world has turned upside down, when sheer madness seems to have engulfed this nation. For instance, I posted this essay in the aftermath of typhoon Yolanda. In the midst of the devastation caused by that howler, I felt obliged to buoy up our collective spirits. Anyway it's the last love that counts. This just belong to the so-called memory lane.)
Although I had occasional infatuations, which bordered on sheer madness, nothing beats the experience of falling in love for the first time.
I was 16 and a fourth year high school student when I met this comely woman, a trophy by all standards. She was 15 and a student of another school when our paths crossed in a party held sometime in Nov., 1970 at the house of a common friend in Quezon City.
During those days, we didn't have discos, but house dance parties were common. We called them "tipar."
I immediately spotted her from a bevy of beautiful girls from other schools. As if to claim a right on a newly discovered land as what the colonizers of old did, I deliberately formed a one-man barricade - composed of me - to prevent other guys from approaching her.
It was a tantalizing success, as I was practically the only guy whom she danced the entire evening.
My friends were all amazed by the kind of audacity that I exhibited all evening. I felt as if I was a medieval knight from another era.
I could only exercise my bragging rights that since I was the only one with the heart and the brain, ergo, I had to enjoy my booty, which was her company.
I felt I was the lone alpha male during that evening.
I got her number, called her nonstop, wooed her, and expressed all the affection and desire a man could shower to a woman.
She was the apple of my eyes, as no single moment was spared without thinking of her. To make this story short, I took my chances to win her heart.
Since that fateful night, I visited her every Sunday at their residence in Teachers' Village in Quezon City.
From our humble house in Tondo, I took a jeepney ride to Quiapo. Then, I took a bus ride (either JD or the slow-moving DM bus) straight to their residence.
At two o'clock in the afternoon, I was at their house. It was a typical "ligaw Intsik."
Courtship was different during those days. We didn't go out. But we chatted a lot, played some records, and ate snacks, which I bought from street vendors in Quiapo.
Sometimes, I brought her some records, the ubiquitous 45 rpms, which I bought from Raon. We shared a lot of things, including secrets.
I wrote love poems for her and recited some lines of love; I helped her in her school works. By 5 pm, we heard mass in a nearby church. Exactly at 7:30 pm, I went home. We were very transparent.
She rewarded my persistence by giving me her sweet yes on her 16th birthday, which fell on January 31, 1971. I had rivals, but she chose me from the rest because she said she also fell for me.
Our relationship was going fine except that I was the restless, impatient young guy, who wanted to change the world during those days. The lure of political activism didn't escape me. This was the start of the downfall, so to speak.
When we had the intellectual ferment during those days, I found myself engaged in political works. Then, my regular weekly visits became scarcer.
I couldn't contain the drift. She didn't initiate a break up, but we just found ourselves on different pages. Our relationship didn't last a year though.
I talked to her once after she got married. Then, she told me: "Pinabayaan mo kasi ako (you neglected me)."
I didn't utter a word, but felt a deep sense of regret. I still feel it until now.
I was 16 and a fourth year high school student when I met this comely woman, a trophy by all standards. She was 15 and a student of another school when our paths crossed in a party held sometime in Nov., 1970 at the house of a common friend in Quezon City.
During those days, we didn't have discos, but house dance parties were common. We called them "tipar."
I immediately spotted her from a bevy of beautiful girls from other schools. As if to claim a right on a newly discovered land as what the colonizers of old did, I deliberately formed a one-man barricade - composed of me - to prevent other guys from approaching her.
It was a tantalizing success, as I was practically the only guy whom she danced the entire evening.
My friends were all amazed by the kind of audacity that I exhibited all evening. I felt as if I was a medieval knight from another era.
I could only exercise my bragging rights that since I was the only one with the heart and the brain, ergo, I had to enjoy my booty, which was her company.
I felt I was the lone alpha male during that evening.
I got her number, called her nonstop, wooed her, and expressed all the affection and desire a man could shower to a woman.
She was the apple of my eyes, as no single moment was spared without thinking of her. To make this story short, I took my chances to win her heart.
Since that fateful night, I visited her every Sunday at their residence in Teachers' Village in Quezon City.
From our humble house in Tondo, I took a jeepney ride to Quiapo. Then, I took a bus ride (either JD or the slow-moving DM bus) straight to their residence.
At two o'clock in the afternoon, I was at their house. It was a typical "ligaw Intsik."
Courtship was different during those days. We didn't go out. But we chatted a lot, played some records, and ate snacks, which I bought from street vendors in Quiapo.
Sometimes, I brought her some records, the ubiquitous 45 rpms, which I bought from Raon. We shared a lot of things, including secrets.
I wrote love poems for her and recited some lines of love; I helped her in her school works. By 5 pm, we heard mass in a nearby church. Exactly at 7:30 pm, I went home. We were very transparent.
She rewarded my persistence by giving me her sweet yes on her 16th birthday, which fell on January 31, 1971. I had rivals, but she chose me from the rest because she said she also fell for me.
Our relationship was going fine except that I was the restless, impatient young guy, who wanted to change the world during those days. The lure of political activism didn't escape me. This was the start of the downfall, so to speak.
When we had the intellectual ferment during those days, I found myself engaged in political works. Then, my regular weekly visits became scarcer.
I couldn't contain the drift. She didn't initiate a break up, but we just found ourselves on different pages. Our relationship didn't last a year though.
I talked to her once after she got married. Then, she told me: "Pinabayaan mo kasi ako (you neglected me)."
I didn't utter a word, but felt a deep sense of regret. I still feel it until now.
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