Sometimes,
That Thing is Just Isn't What It's Cracked Up to Be
By Gilbert Trillana
SOMETIMES, IT'S
just isn't. One day I asked my friend Leon after a good dinner-meeting
how he's doing with his current dilemma concerning it, after bugging
me of such. He said "I'm so confused, dude, we thought we already
had it." I said, "Well you both did have it, didn't you?"
And he said, "Yeah but I lost it." Hint: it's a four-letter
word. No, it's not the one starting with an "F." Unless,
of course, you're speaking of 'Funk.' (downright senseless)
Some two years
ago, right after having broken-off with my recent girlfriend, (three
years my senior, by the way) I told Leon of my usual woes of never
to speak to her again nor even speak of her for that matter. Leon
said, "If I ever been in such relationship and didn't work
out, I'd still want to be friends with her. I'd still talk to her.
We'd still go out. We'd party, we'd still go to movies... we'll
have a good time. I'll make sure our friendship won't be broken
at all." I already gave it a thought. That sounds like a good
idea.
Two months later
long after I last spoke with Mary I tried to toughen up and face
the music. To make the challenge even more gut-wrenching, I'll even
go out along with her friends. They might think, "What's this
schmuck doing here?" Bull. Still I'm determined, for I happen
to have the skin of a Rhino.
Or so I thought.
The evening
turned out like hundreds of stray bullets with heat-seeking capabilities,
all targeted towards my sorry ass. Her glances are cold, with an
ear-splitting loudness that makes you shiver to your knees, then
suddenly shatter like thousand pieces of glass. Your stomach aches,
your body melts, your mind in total haze. All you could ever think
of is bow down to your knees in front of her and be willing to take
that body-building program you've long promised yourself years ago,
in despair. You've tried to patch up things with her like everything
is right with the world, only to find out that her cold stares,
sharp remarks delivered in dark masks, and the ever-so-popular wall
of silence put up right in front of your nose are all built up soon
after you called it quits. In her book, you're long gone out of
her system before she even considers you for a light snack. You're
history. Gone. The end. Nada. Finito. Tah-tah. And good-bye Irene.
I left Mary
without saying goodbye. Besides, it's worthless to do so. I never
saw or heard from her again.
It's been two
years now since I tried taking Leon's advice, and I myself felt
nostalgic. I told to myself, "now it's Leon's turn." I
asked him if he's still going to see her.
"No,"
he said, "I told her that once I'm gone, I'm gone."
"Really.
"Yeah. Once it's over, she'll never see me again."
I was laughing. "Remember what you told me about Mary, right?"
"What of it?"
"What happened, man? Tell me you're still friends with your
ex. You'd talk to her. You'd go out, party, go to the movies with
her... just have a good time, right? You'll make sure your friendship
with her won't be broken at all, right?
With his fist
in the air he lets out a cold, convincing exclaim: "Never!"
Sometimes love
just isn't what it's cracked-up to be. The same way with life, I
believe. You fail, you move on, life is happy once more. And the
more you think of your failure, the more you curl up like a ball
unable to move nor even budge. You try to go back, it will only
make things worse.
Some people,
on the contrary, are worthy of my praise. They will go through great
lengths only to patch up things that screwed their lives before,
only to realize that there's nothing much to patch up after all.
Such things take time. Unless, of course, the other party is very
much willing to take the plunge at least once more ... just to see
if it works the second time around. If it does work, then my hats-off
to them. They really are worth a book to read, a story to hear,
or a film to watch. That couple's worth my pocket money.
If not, well,
that is sure one over-budgeted, underrated movie I would never see.
Leon has his
own special reasons, I'm sure. His interest in recovering the flame
was replaced abruptly by his interest in pouring it with water.
Even so, it's not there anymore. What's left are ashes, remnants
of a reminder of a love that was once there, for everyone beside
the campfire to enjoy and to bask their hands onto. His decision
to leave everything behind is a decision most people frustrated
playing the game would more or less certainly do.
Aye, there's
the rub. I guess that's the trouble with most people nowadays. We
treat the four-letter-word as something to play and mess up with,
not to take hold of, reflect deeply, and cherish it for posterity--although
it really is easier said than done. I know, I tried it myself before
and it's no good playing with it at all. I have learned my lesson.
And I'm still learning, as we speak. I am very sure all the Leons
of the world would definitely agree with that.
For some special
reason I still have Mary's phone number, but I never tried calling
her ever since that fateful Saturday evening. I should have thrown
the damn thing away a long time ago for all I care. Strangely enough
I still have it, and I have no intention in doing so. Perhaps up
until now.
There might
be a chance that I'd pick up the phone any time soon and give it
a try once again. The time should be right, though. Maybe I should
try being friends with her, to talk and go out with her. Or perhaps
party and maybe go to the movies with her and just have a good time.
And then perhaps I'll make sure our friendship won't be broken at
all... for old times' sake.
Then again,
why make a mushy sequel out of a good old film classic?
I do hope it's
just me. The weather outside is too damn crazy.
----------------
Gilbert Trillana is a freelance designer and comic-book illustrator.
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