My name is Lauren. I dropped out of graduate school to write for a living and co-own an online boutique. I like scary things, pretty things, and geeky things. I'm not really always right. (More)
Whether it’s promise rings (a promise to get engaged) or monthsaries (a celebration of one month of being together), every couple does a Lame Couple Thing that other people probably roll their eyes at. Our Lame Couple Thing is the Meetsary – a celebration of the day we first met each other (which is different from the anniversary, the celebration of the day we became a couple). To me, it makes more sense to celebrate meetsaries rather than monthsaries, because it takes a very precise set of circumstances to bring two people together at the same place and at the same point of their lives where they more or less make a perfect fit. I bring this up because it’s been exactly a year since I first made googly eyes at Marco in Cantina, and I haven’t really stopped since. <3 We didn’t do anything major for our first meetsary – just dinner at Mr. Kabab with Anne and Helga, which oddly enough is exactly how I started my evening exactly 365 days ago.
The story of how I met my boyfriend begins with me ditching dinner with the Hohobags for dinner at Mr Kabab with the same set of people plus Luis. I didn’t mean to be so flaky but I haven’t had a beef chelo kabab in months, plus Helga and I just made up after minor drama happened. We had drinks at Cafe 77 after dinner and I was ready to call it a night as soon as I downed my second beer. For some reason, Kimi and Rica was unusually insistent about meeting them at Cantina for drinks. I declined their invitation at first but when they texted me again I figured, “Why the hell not?” This decision to go for more alcohol with the Hohobags turned out to be one of the best decisions I have ever made in my life. I’m sure I would have eventually met Marco at some point, but there’s no telling if we would have found each other as attractive or as interesting in the weeks or months after January 3, 2009.
To be perfectly honest, my boyfriend Marco isn’t my “type.” I like my guys dangerous-looking with nuts on the side; Marco with his shaved head looks like a basketball jock cum serial dater. The kind of guy who wouldn’t notice me in a crowded room, who’d eventually date me once he knows I like having fun, then never call again. The only thing that was missing was the argyles and the popped collar. On the night we first met, I was already preparing to get my heart broken. Little did I know that I would luck out with him – the Pearl Boy exterior was only a genetic inheritance. Deep down, he’s the biggest dork in the world. More importantly, Marco and I turned out to share the same values, the same interests, the same sense of humor, and the same libido. And he wasn’t a serial dater (he only had one girlfriend before me).
This is what I thought Marco was like the first time I met him
When I was a kid, I used to have these recurring dreams where I’d go surfing under cloudless blue skies. I have never gone surfing as a child, nor was I particularly keen about learning how to, but in my dreams I’d feel as though I were one with the waves carrying me gently to the beach. Some ten odd years later, I found myself marveling at the sport’s deceptive simplicity as I alternated between paddling out to sea and clutching at the sides of a surfboard, the sea churning underneath my belly like a hyperacidic stomach.
Last weekend was spent catching some early summer sun at La Union with the boyfriend, Helga, Peter, Jen, and three of Jen’s friends. In between sips of pina colada, naps under the sun, and the kind of kilig moments only beaches can induce, I toyed with the idea of trying out surfing for the first time. There’s no arguing that it looks like a lot of fun, but I know myself well and my self cannot stand very long on a moving object. I also had doubts about my learning curve and the ability of my smoker’s lungs to carry me against the current. Helga claims to have gone surfing on the first morning, but because she has no picture proof I’m inclined to take her story with a grain of salt. She did swear that it was incredibly easy, even for total noobs, and that I’d probably learn how to ride a wave less than an hour.
