My name is Adam.
My name is the 69th most popular boys name in the United States. I find that nonsense info somewhat funny. If you get what I meant then probably there’s something we have in common.
I won't lie and go straight to the point by saying that I'm gay. And by gay I don't mean I'm a happy person. Sure, I'm not gloomy or anything close to that. I'm just, well, gay.
There’s nothing really special about me. I’m just some average looking 20 something gay guy who tries to live decently in the urban jungles of Manila. I wish I could share something out of this world or something extra special about me like how I was the “special” one who discovered the cure for AIDS or I’m the first gay astronaut that ever landed planet Pluto. But the truth is, I’m just one of those people who you would pass by some random street and never bother to do a double look.
When I was little, my mom used to tell me that I have the weirdest fixation to words. In fact, she said that there's no word in the English language that I don't like. Once you meet me, you’ll see how obvious that fact is. As of yesterday there were approximately 33 people I know of who either wants to plaster my mouth or just stay away because they were annoyed by the sound of my voice.
I always tell people that if there are three things in life that I am absolutely passionate about are talking, meeting people & making a fool out of myself. Thanks to my so-called job, I’m somewhat able to do all these. I work as an instructor in a known school somewhere in Quezon City. I teach young college brats for a living. My everyday life consists of formulas, number and a whole lot of unnecessary bull.
I’m not complaining. I sort of wished that I could live my life differently.
Adam changed his status from in a relationship to single.
That of course is complete with a heart shaped icon on the side.
I was adjusting my eyes while looking intently at the sentence flashing from my laptop monitor. I just woke up & still adjusting to the rays of the sun piercing through the window of my shoebox of an apartment.
It really hasn’t slapped me until today.
I’ve been in denial for the longest time that things were still okay, that my relationship with him was still spotless.
After 10 long years of being with somebody, I’m now officially unattached.
The six letter word that for the longest time I thought I would never use.
Ever since senior year of high school, it has always been Adam & James or James & Adam.
James- the most popular boy’s name in the US.
James and I were simply inseparable. We go to all social functions (birthdays, weddings, trick or treating, Ash Wednesday masses, cheesy sleepovers, etc.) together. It has long been engraved on the minds of our little circle of friends that one won’t be caught dead without the other.
“But that’s over now.” I told myself as I began rising up from my messy bed. I quickly adjusted the gray (used to be white) curtains to keep the blinding sunshine from entering my otherwise bare & dark apartment.
I sat on my bed still staring at my laptop monitor. It’s been 3 long days since our break up, 3 days ago since James and I finally ended our 10 year relationship.
I surveyed my surrounding as I tried to sip water from my “I love my mom” mug- one of those weird “I care about you” gifts that she normally sends me when I was still in college.
My relationship with James started way back in senior year High School. We’re from the same clique—the circle of geeks.
James and I started as friends. Thanks (or no thanks) to a spontaneous sleep over, that changed significantly.
At that time, we’ll be attending a school event the following day so he asked me to come to his place and help him out pack his stuff. Being the goody two shoes that I’ve always been, I complied.
Fast forward, there we were lying on his bed, side by side. I was sleeping soundly, not minding anything at all when I felt his hand brushed mine. At first, I completely disregarded what had happened since it might be accidental. However, the brushing of the hand evolved into a semi tight hug then to a full on kiss. I really didn’t know how to react. I just froze while James was slopping me with his kisses (he’s obviously not an expert of this). But after sometime, I gave in.
From then on, we were inseparable. We breezed through senior year and our entire college years together.
We know every inch of one another.
We complete each others’ sentences.
We were so consumed with one another that we decided to live together right after high school since we both went to the same college and lived in the same dormitory (even if my house was just a 3 hour drive from school.
However, everything avalanched when we hit our 7th year. Actually, to be more specific, it all started when he decided to be a model. Yes, the day he wanted to be Zoolander was the day he completely forgot about me.
I remember the day he went home from work carrying gym membership cards for the both of us. He enrolled us to a popular gym. Initially, I was excited! Who wouldn’t want to have a hotter boyfriend, right?
As expected by everybody around us, we make it a point that James and I would be going to the gym together. We attended the same classes, did the same routines. I was even impressed when he got leaner and his muscles started popping out.
I noticed the changes when he started going to the gym on his own. He began coming home late, ignoring my text messages and calls, and even disappearing without a trace for days.
I confronted him in several occasions but he kept on telling me that he’s out to pursue his modeling career. He didn’t bother to expound.
I was obviously in doubt but after sometime I became numb. I just accepted our situation. After all, whenever I ask him, he kept on telling me the same old story-- ”I’m out to pursue my modeling career.”
But last Friday, reality bit me- big time.
I went home to our shared apartment really all bummed from work when something immediately caught my eye—a yellow post it plastered on top of my bookshelf.
I can’t do this anymore. I found someone else.
I was dumbfounded for minutes. All I did was stare at the post it. I can literally feel my sweat pores building up and about to excrete cold, cold sweat.
But more importantly, I could feel my tear ducts slowly releasing what I’ve been keeping all these time. I couldn’t stop myself from crying.
“Shit! We’ve been together for 10 years, shared priceless time together and yet he didn’t have the decency to break up with me in person. Am I that worthless in his eyes that he decided that I’ll get it—- why he broke up, what’s wrong with me, why he’s throwing it all away—- by channeling it all in a freaking Post it.”
Life is damn ironic. Who would’ve thought that a 10 year (approximately 120 months or 480 weeks or 175,200 days) partnership would end just like that.
My stomach was filled with butterflies—raging ones. I felt a fusion of emotions- anger, sadness, betrayal, annoyance, pity, relief, etc.
I felt lost.
For the longest time, I depended on him in almost everything.
At that very moment, my shoe box of an apartment suddenly felt bigger as I began feeling my heart crumble into a million little pieces.
A small voice in me just wants to sleep all day, all week, all month, all year—if that’s not enough—even for an eternity. But I’m a chicken shit & very gutless so no matter how broken my heart is now, I will still go to work today.
I used all my energy to roll out of bed and prepare for work. I was like some wind up doll on crack that did my everyday routine activity.
After a quick shower, I checked out my closet that has a more space now. I didn’t bother to choose my clothes. I just grabbed whatever article clothing that I first touched, not even bother to check out if it matched.
I avoided the wall were all our polaroids were plastered. I avoided the box filled with dried up roses, letters and other memorabilia he gave me all throughout our relationship.
I avoided the mirror. I was afraid that my reflection would reveal the absolute truth that I kept on denying to myself—that I still love him, still miss him.
The truth that no matter how unimaginably grotesque the way he treated me, if he tells me at this very moment that he changed his mind and would come back to this apartment again there’s a high probability that I would be sucking in my pride and accept him back.
I picked up my bag and headed to the door when I saw the yellow post it on the marbled floor of my flat. It’s just there like some lifeless body waiting to be found.
I picked it up, once more reading the content.
I can’t do this anymore. I found someone else.
I was on the verge of tearing that piece of shit when I decided to do something else.
I opened my bag, got my old organizer out. I opened it to the page that shows the date when he left me.
Friday, February 19
I posted the yellow paper on the space that followed.
I drew little broken hearts below it.
After doing that, I opened it to the present date page.
Monday, February 22
I stared at the blank space for a second then slowly wrote:
TODAY I START TO LIVE AGAIN.
“Sure I’m not over you, but I won’t allow you to consume me anymore. I have to do this. I must do this.” I told myself repeatedly.
I went back to the mirror and stared at myself.
I forced a smile as I stepped out from my dark and shady apartment into broad daylight.