I don’t know why I’m a hopeless romantic. I keep sending flowers to women who’ll never love me back. Maybe because genuine affection afflicts me once a year. Or maybe because I’m an idealist-cum-cynic.
Then again I have no regrets. Sending her the bouquet and poem was the best thing for me to do. Crippled by shyness that I am, I have effectively channeled my repressed emotions into an edifice of my true feelings. Surprised as she was by my revelation – she was expecting me to give it to someone else.
Now I keep on recalling how my classmates said that love is bitterest the first time around. Well, I’ve tried twice and proved it true. So now everytime I see rejectee 2.0 I don’t feel as much anguish as I had. Which is a good thing, but still supernaturally haunting.
Yet what gripes me most is what to do next? Do I ignore or hate her? She’s too nice for me to hate. We work together too much to ignore each other.
Am I just going to sing “Kahit konting pagtingin” for the next weeks?