It is rather a new feeling for me that I started writing this blog entry with a small, wicked smile in my face, which rarely (or never at all) happened during the past few weeks. Actually, this small, wicked smile was already on my face while I was on my way home from SM North EDSA earlier. I know this would be gone soon but I want to savor it while it last.
But we must begin properly, shouldn’t we?
I made the previous blog entry while I was in UST LRU, enjoying the fast internet connection and waiting for the sudden rainfall to abate. After a look at a sky that said it was okay to have a walk outside, I grudgingly logged out and picked myself up from my cozy computer station. While I was inside the FX, I thought of what to do when I reach SM North EDSA. I had two options: one, I could well proceed to the next FX terminal bound to Bulacan, or two, I could squeeze in a little malling before going back to the boredom at home (actually, there was a third choice which was to go to Narcissus to finally have a talk with him vis-a-vis but he was rather in an insensitive mood then and preferred to go out with his friends. I could still well hear what he told me earlier that day about why couldn’t we just have the "talk" on the phone. Men.). I chose the second option.
I quite remember from Chel’s blog that there were such things as studies on the benefits of shopping…that there was a growing body of research showing how shopping activates key areas in the brain, boosting our mood, and making us feel better (rather like having a shot of methamphetamine and no one the wiser, isn’t?). Well, the minute I stepped in that mall, despite the crowd and the certain dinginess of the place, I knew those researchers were doing it right.
Of course, almost by instinct, I went to National Bookstore. It’s not a pleasant place such as Fully Booked or Powerbooks where you won’t get jostled by harassed moms buying school things for their kids. But, for that time, it just had to do. And, boy, I think it just did it for me. I wasn’t quite expecting NBS would be able to put that much sunshine on my dreary, boring life.
Being rather fascinated with vegetarian cooking lately, I proceeded to the cookbooks section. Though I’ve just bought Nona Lema’s Gulay cookbook and haven’t tried all the recipes there yet, still I wanted to look if there were more local cookbooks similar to hers. And I was disappointed. Most of the local cookbooks I found were just of the ordinary kind. Some concentrated more on international cuisine. I’m not interested on that yet for the moment. But still I continued browsing the cookbooks, looking for something that may be interesting.
Then I suddenly I was conscious of this tall guy there, in blue sweatshirt and denim jeans, plowing through the disorganized heap of local cookbooks like me. And he was singing! Not humming. Singing. I just didn’t quite well catch what was it he was singing (but I had a feeling it was something of a ballad or a pop classic) because, then, our arms sort of brushed against one another (though his was covered by the sweatshirt) as we were trying to get books that were propped up next to each other. I just smiled at him and he smiled back. I remember that he was moreno, about 5′9"-6′0" (he was that tall!), nice thin lips, prominent cheekbones, and ooohhh-la-la, thick manly eyebrows and intense dark eyes that I think would really stand out if he was wearing a bonnet to match his sweatshirt. Maybe he was in his late 20’s (Not the yummiest of age. I like older men. Hehe. But what the hell…). And I remember I had an impression that he looked positively charming, in a nonconventional way. A second thought, though, followed quickly: is he gay? I mean, not really many heterosexual guys venture in the cookbooks section because, let’s all admit to ourselves, it’s not really a guy thing to cook (Yes, Ram…you are the exception to the rule, hehe). Oh yeah, plenty of well-known chefs are men, but we are talking about ordinary, average men here. And this guy here, was not flipping through computer books or gadget magazines. He was scanning a recipe book. I also thought that maybe he’s just buying it for his girlfriend or his mom. But, no, I don’t think so. He seemed to be looking for a particular recipe or something. He wasn’t picking the cookbooks in random. My best guess was that he was buying the cookbook for himself.
Aint’ that refreshing?
But then, I shouldn’t have taken time thinking of those things because…there he went. In a split second, he was gone! And I haven’t even said a word to him! I mean, I could have made a witty remark or asked if he was really into cooking. I could have asked for a name! Goodness, the girl is losing her gall! I can’t believe I let him get away like that.
I left the cookbook section and weaved through the other bookshelves. There he was, lined up in the cashier next to the school supplies. I thought of picking up something and going up to the line as well, so I could get close to him. But I remembered I don’t have that much money left and I couldn’t go on buying impulsively. So there he went…and then soon gone.
And, though I was regretting that I wasn’t able to talk to him, I was all smiles on my way home. Suddenly I felt there was still something alive in me. I’m not merely a passing shadow in the world. There was a spark in there when I smiled at him and momentarily looked at his eyes. Or maybe there wasn’t. Just me and my overworking imagination. But there could have been. There could have been something.
How I wish these things work like that in the movies. Serendipity or some other feel good, sometimes cheesy movies. I wish somehow I got my name in that cookbook of his and that he would find me or that I’ve got something of his that could help me look for him. But there was nothing. Just a moment’s smile.
Sigh. I guess that would be enough and I should be thankful that I had that experience to cheer me up during these lonely times. Maybe I won’t see that guy with the thick, manly eyebrows and intense eyes again. Or even if I do, I might not recognize him anymore and most probably, he won’t even remember me at all.
However, what cheers me on is that maybe another brush with destiny like this would happen again. And I hope, when that time comes, I won’t lose the nerve to let the guy know I am there. And a little part of me is also wishing that, he, too, somewhere right now, is also thinking that he should have not let that chance passed and that someday we’d meet again. Somehow.
