He was the best of times, the worst of crimes.

IT IS HONESTLY SAD AND CRUEL knowing that most people we meet and learn to adore eventually have to leave. It isn’t always the case, yes. But in my experience it always happens like clockwork.

When I met James, I was confident he was only going to be a hookup. One that I had psyched myself up to settle for since I become single. Again. I was also certain he saw me as an available sexual offer on his table as well.

I didn’t know it was going to be more than that because he made it oh-so-easy for me to like him.

I remember the first time he took me to his favorite breakfast place. It was a sunny Friday in June. We ordered our food to-go, and as we walked back to his place, we ended up eating our food in the nearby park ‘cause I told him I haven’t seen it in the daylight. It was my second breakfast at the park, which was very memorable because my first was with my mom when I was 10 or 11.

I appreciate people more when they do things for me and with me that reminds me of my childhood and of my mom. James gained multiple “pogi” points for it.

Although he and I never went out on a date or at least there was none that we considered as one, I still had great times with him when we were at his place just talking about our lives. He was always interested about my stories and I, to his.

For a little over two months, we were spending time together without having to fck, which says a lot because I was always horny around him and I was able to restrain myself. Haha. We were contented just to cuddle in his bed and chat until we fall asleep. It was nice and warm and sweet—

I fell for it.

My blind optimism romanticized what we were and I had hoped it would lead to something more. It was as if there were no red flags in front of me. It was as if he wasn’t seeing other guys, or as if my friends never warned me he was not a good idea.

Of all his good qualities, his being charming was a standout. That’s what made me want him more. And who passes up on that? I’ve always been a princess, and every classic Disney fan knows princesses are always paired up with a prince that is charming. That’s how their fairytale stories were written. But alas, we were not that kind of story.

Surely, I’ll miss James.

Now that he’s left my country, all there’s left is to watch his pictures on Facebook like I used to watch him sleep, and I’ll feel him forget me like I used to feel him breathe.

The moment I knew.

It was a Thursday afternoon. The room was wonderfully bright and warm. On the corner night stand was a Bluetooth speaker playing “Your Song” by Rita Ora from his iPhone.

He was packing work clothes in his gym bag and other items in another bag for his trip to the beach that weekend.

“Did you eat your food already?” he asked.

I didn’t reply so he went towards me as I was finishing the buttons of my shirt. He was wearing a black tank top that had Les Mills printed on it and black gym shorts, all fitted his tight chest and body. Standing in front me still waiting for my response, I reached for his right hand and stood up. 

There’s no way I am going to back out again. I was going to tell him how much I admire his sweet smiles, the goofy faces and pickup lines he makes, his poi dancing, and most of all, I love the way he makes me fall for him in many effortless ways, even I know he doesn’t feel the same towards me. I knew I wasn’t going to lose the moment this time.

He smirked at me and stared, fixed his eyes on mine, as if he already knew what exactly I am into. His dark green eyes told me to remain on guard and stick to what I had to say that very moment when he was only a breath away. 

It felt like melting along with the continuous sound of music filling the entire room. I didn’t know where to begin. I’m scared of what might happen next. I’m afraid that he might reject me. Again. For once, those negative thoughts backfired on my head.

But I was too weak and shy to speak for those words. I thought it was not the right time until he put his arms around my waist and pulled me towards him, without hesitation, without any words, he opened his mouth and reached for my lips. 

All of a sudden, it felt like I was floating in the air with my both hands around his neck. If I was in the middle of a beautiful dream that moment, I wished not to wake up at all. But it was for real, I’m not in a mindless dreaming. It was the best two and a half breathless minutes of my life.

When our lips parted, we remained standing locked in each other’s arms; that was the moment I knew it was going to be our last kiss.

It’s hard not to find it all a little bittersweet.

When you read this, I know you’re going to raise an eyebrow because I had written yet another blog entry about you. I know how much you hate it when I “drag” you into my ~sad, bitter~ posts. So before you start scrolling down to read anyway, let me warn you start by saying I am sorry. Really, I am.

I’m sorry for sharing a little too much of our relationship in my previous blog entries. You never truly listened to what I had to say and I didn’t want to constantly bother my closest friends about what was going on at the time so I had to turn to my blog for company. I’m sorry for putting my emotions and feelings out in the open ‘cause you were not always there to appreciate them.

I’m sorry if I didn’t commit to gaining weight and building muscles. To be “masculine” or “toned” is never my thing but yours. Maybe that’s one of the reasons you kept hooking up with other people. You were never completely attracted to me, physically.

For that, I’m sorry. I’m sorry if I am very much happy and satisfied with the way I look.

I’m sorry if I had to write about all of your shortcomings. If in any way these blog entries made you feel like a bad boyfriend, know that it was never my intention. I never wanted for my readers to see that you were never contented.

I’m also sorry that you had to constantly lie about almost everything because you thought I could never handle the truth. I’m sorry for wearing my heart on my sleeves, that’s why you thought I’m too emotional to take the hard truth in.

I’m sorry if you were never satisfied with just me. I’m sorry that my not being enough made you the lying, cheating boyfriend that all my friends hate. I’m sorry.

I’m sorry if you think I’m crazy and psycho because I am way too smart and clever for you to fool. I’m sorry if I always knew when you’re lying. You know I’m Sherlock Holmes.

I’m sorry if I had become a different person. I’m sorry if I was no longer the person you loved. I’m sorry if I had become more bitchy and shady and mean. I didn’t intend to become one. But after years of keeping it all in and sweeping things under the rug, you soon realize that in your attempt to not lose someone, you end up losing yourself in the process. I didn’t want that to happen any further. So I’m truly sorry.

Most of all, I’m very sorry if I honestly believed in everything that we had. I had imagined we were going to last.

Now that you have reached the last two paragraphs of this long and boring blog entry, I want you to remember the next one.

In spite of the secrets and lies, I am more than happy that somehow I was able to make you feel genuinely loved in a way nobody else can and probably nobody else could. And I am happy for the fact that it was my only part in your life.