A love letter to Sir Chief

Dear Sir Chief,

MANILA, Philippines - I like to think of myself as a smart woman. I roll my eyes at poorly engineered chick flicks that don’t even bother to make their crap believable anymore. I especially don’t believe that the divides of Philippine classism can be bridged by romance. A sense of family, maybe, but not a functioning partnership between two people who are utterly convinced that they are equals. For starters, they wouldn’t even have enough common ground to go on long stretches of intimate, effortless, meandering conversation. I’m not being matapobre (or bitter; of course I love Maya *cough*), just realistic.

Not that it matters what I think, because you don’t care. You sit determinedly in front of your laptop and can’t be bothered with my opinions as you focus on your work. But just when I am thoroughly convinced that you are hopelessly square, you crack, just a bit. There is a flash of concern, a sudden jealousy and possessiveness, which if given in the right amounts, renders any woman a happy and submissive captive (Fifty Shades of Grey shadowing not intended). I understand that this is a common tactic employed by those who pride themselves in being players — the intentional shift between hot and cold — but I don’t sense any of that from you. You just honestly care when you do and don’t when you don’t. You are oblivious to the effect you have, because you don’t mean for there to be any effect. You just are.

In fact, you’re not smooth at all. There is an awkwardness about you that you can’t shake. You stood stiffly as you sang Maya an apologetic harana during New Year’s Eve. You also labeled your intimate Valentine’s dinner a “friends date.” What are you, pubescent?

You’re not the kind of guy one can imagine delivering an iconic kilig line with impeccable timing. You are clearly not the next Jerry Maguire. I’m almost certain that if you ever find the guts to admit your feelings, it’s going to have a rough, choppy, unrehearsed feel to it. You have also proven to be brash and insensitive from time to time.

You lack the fluidity that it takes to be a typical leading man. There are moments when you’re almost like a person trapped inside a robot’s rigid body. But that’s where you get your charm, Sir Chief. In a sea of perfectly idealized Prince Charmings who predictably say and do the right thing at the right moment, you’re the only real guy—the one who can be clueless, dense, and doesn’t go for the kill even when it’s clear as daylight that he has it in the bag. Neither are you one of those incorrigible bad boys who inspire many futile messianic attempts at saving. You’re that rare type of heartthrob who doesn’t know how to work it, or that he even has it. You’re the guy who unwittingly friendzones all the girls who have crushes on him (myself included) instead of exploiting your magnetism. Despite having three children, you are what people today would call pure — your good and honest intentions betrayed by your lack of suave.

Don’t worry about it, love. I’m more than willing to meet you halfway.

Sincerely,

Your next yaya,

Cate de Leon

PS. Tweet me @catedeleon.