DEAR CHRISTIAN,

When I opened the van door open, I instantly saw how beautiful you looked like, even in partial darkness. But as much as I wanted to sit beside you, I was busy scrambling for coins so Honeybun ended up sitting beside you.

Sandwiched in between us, Honeybun dozed off for the most part of the trip, leaving us free to connect. And connect we did.

We sideway glanced at each other from time to time, playing the game and not making it too frequent, of course, to send off the vibe that we’re not really that interested.

I took out my phone and pretended to text, wanting to show you the kind of phone that I have and hoping you’d get an idea of what kind of person I am basing on my mobile phone. The first time I whipped it out, my wallpaper - Dickie, Tom and Marge – was there for you to see.

You did the same, and more.

You whipped out your phone and thumbed a message, and then kept it. You took out another phone. And called someone.

“Hi kuya Jay,” you greeted the other person. “This is Christian.”

And then you went on to let kuya Jay – and me – get to know more about you. Where you live. What course you took in college. Your previous job. Your present job. Why you are settling for your current day job. Where you are going to be at this Wednesday. Many, many other things. You mentioned your surname too, but I didn’t catch it. Drat. Now I can’t search for you in Facebook.

You told the driver to drop you off somewhere, some sort of warning that our time together would end soon.

You took another look at me. And saw that Honeybun’s arm was around me, her head on my shoulder. You whipped one of your phones and pressed some buttons.

Then came your drop-off point. I opened the door, you went out. And I looked at you walking. Walking and not looking back at me. Not looking because you thought I was straight and not interested.

I woke up Honeybun and told her I was in love. And that I wanted to go somewhere this Wednesday.

Love,
Mark