Nice, isn’t it?

You are so nice," she said. I did not know how to answer and found myself awkwardly saying, "No, I am not."

Then she goes, "Yeah, you are naturally nice."

Gee, how do I answer that? If only we knew each other well, I would answer, "Don’t you know any other adjectives aside from nice?" And she would instantly know I was, of course, joking because she is a wordy writer. But we do not know each other.

We met two or three years ago at a birthday party. We said "Hi" and "Hello," and then joined different tables. We never saw nor spoke to each other again after that.

That morning, I sent her some homemade delicacies when I heard she liked them very much. She nicely called to thank me, and that is why we were nicely talking on the cell phone. I suggested we have coffee next time I was in Manila if she was not too busy.

"Oh, that will be nice," she said. Again?

"OK, nice talking to you," I said. Nahawa na ko.

"I think Tonette is nice," I told Claude when I handed him back his cell phone. "I must have coffee with her."

Nice is a nice word we often use to describe pleasant people we hardly know. Simply put, it can mean nothing and anything.

"My mom’s girlfriend is nice. She lets us lock ourselves in her daughter’s room."

"His uncle is nice; he gives us drugs on our birthdays."

From being quiet to being talkative and friendly, to the neighbor who could not be bothered in the neighborhood: they are all nice. But a priest recently urged us to strive to be good and not just nice. "A good parent, a good uncle, a good spouse, a good neighbor and so on is what God requires of us," he said in his homily.

Recently, I invited a family of 20 or so to our Bale Dutung. Knowing how reluctant they were to travel all the way from Manila to Pampanga just to have Sunday lunch, I promised to prepare them their choice of food. But one couple said they had a baptism to attend. So we all agreed to take a rain check; it is, after all, an open invitation that has no expiration. They are a bunch of very pleasant people who are all very close to my heart.

Claude and I then left for Baguio. I do not know what understanding transpired afterwards from our text message. I later found out that they meant to proceed with the original plan. It was a good thing that just before leaving Manila, one of them wisely suggested calling our landline. Of course, they felt frustrated when the maid told them we were up in Baguio. They were understandably upset.

I scratched my head, wondering what had happened. At least two ladies nicely came to my defense. I appreciate that coming to one’s defense against an upset majority is never easy.

But not surprisingly, my own two sisters were not as nice when they heard what happened. They blamed me for the misunderstanding. Maybe it was because twice I forgot I had a date with them. Rounding up the usual suspects, I guess. Never mind if a hundred times over I did not fail them. One sister even said with arrogance that I was planning a date with a very professional man. I scratched my head again. How could she know that? They would not even recognize each other in broad daylight. I wonder why people are nicer to strangers than to those (supposedly) close to them.

My mom-in-law associates quietness with niceness. Once, I teased her that I would be quiet just to be in her good books.

"You? You are so chatty. At times, I want to put a dirty sock in your mouth," my hubby said.

I laughed – what else can I do? – and chatted on. "I thought you said before that I am a true charming raconteur, and that it is so nice to listen to me just talk and talk."

"That was before you became my wife," he said in a deadpan manner.

My hubby and my sisters reminded me of a lady counselor I sat with at one dinner party. She said that many parents complain about their children’s behavior and attitude. But they never checked their own attitudes towards their children. "If only we treated our children like they were our friend’s children, our children would also treat us like the mother of their best friend. The same thing goes for husbands," she continued. "We would be more patient and understanding. We would praise often instead of criticize. We shall remember to say please and thank you for the smallest things. And we would as a result have very peaceful homes. But we are (naturally) nicer and more patient with other people than our spouses and children."

"Because we are just being considerate," said one mother.

"And could it be because we are always mean to those we love the most?" I added.

"Then do treat your family like they are not yours," the counselor said. "Especially when you are mad!"

Well, last month we marked our eighth year, and thank God, I haven’t tasted a dirty sock yet. But I have tasted the best food he will serve no one else. Friends warned me of the seven-year itch, but it did pass without my realizing it. Maybe because we know how to really scratch each other’s backs well. We declare war like strangers, and we make love like honeymooners. We fight like strangers, and we love like two connected souls. At times, we are simply nice to each other; at times we are really good to each other. And always I remind myself (and my hubby, too) my favorite line from the movie The Wedding Date when Nick was saying sorry: "I realized I’d rather fight with you than make love with someone else."

Nice, isn’t it?