It's been months now since I first saw this adorable bachelor who lives inside the compound beside our house. Since then, I became very fascinated with him. At first, he appeared to be very mysterious but I know that underneath his irresistible smile, is the guy every girls and gays (for my benefit) will surely die for.

There’s something about him that captivated me. Until now, I’m not really sure what it is about him that entices me. It could be his perfect smile, his undeniable charisma, or his obvious over the top kindness. But above all, as of this writing, I believe I’m enthralled to him because I know deep inside that he is the man I want to end up with. Ever since I was a kid, I have this illusion of the guy I would want to be my life partner. How I want him to be, his appearance, the way he carries himself, his job, his quirks, his voice, etc. It’s just amazing how this guy in my imagination came to be true in the person of my bachelor neighbor.

Soon after I first saw him, my fascination became infatuation and eventually became a mild obsession. We (me, my mom, and my sister) gave him the code name boy-next-door. I say I’ve already crossed my boundary of a mild obsession since there are instances that I find myself thinking about him from the time I wake up till the time I close my eyes and sleep. Even worst, lately, he’s also the subject of my dreams. It has already been part of my daily routine to check from time to time if he’s already home. It is a must for me to know where he will park his car every night. Every morning, between 6-7 am. if I’m awake, I’ll go out and take a peek outside our gate to see if his car is still parked where he left it the night before. And if luck is on my side, he might be on his way to his car at the same time I will go out and check outside our gate. I fancy about him day and night. Often, I find myself wondering what he maybe doing at that particular minute. Or what his friends are like? I feel like I should know all about him.

Weeks have passed and I am more and more drawn to him as the information about him came flooding in our doorsteps. His name, his plate number, where he works, who washes his clothes, how his girlfriend looks like, who’s with him in their house, where his parents are, what flavor of Gatorade he drinks, where his province is, how many siblings he has, where he plays basketball, and so on and so forth.

There are just so many things about him to adore and love about. His perfect smile will make everyone weak to the bones. His praise-worthy teeth glitter as he flashes his grin (or in Bella Swan’s term to refer to the Jacob grin that makes her soft, “my grin”). His perfectly messed hair is a head-turner. His lovable chinito eyes are inexplicable. His positive aura that come hand-in-hand with his smiling face will surely brush worries away. His respect for the elderly is adorable. His love for kids is very endearing. His politeness and good heartedness is engaging. His fondness to sit in the floor while watching TV is awfully charming. His cooking for his girlfriend is downright applauding.

In the words of our other neighbors, he’s someone who wears his heart in his sleeve, someone who doesn’t have any harsh bone in his body. He’s not the makalaglag panty’t brief kind of guy nor is he perfect but his good heart and adequate sex appeal makes him the best candidate for The Sexiest Man Alive.

Sometimes, I hate myself for wanting to know more about him, for making extra efforts to steal quick glances on him. For no matter how expert I am with this matters brought about by my vast experiences in infatuations and unrequited love affairs, I still fall and fall over and over again with the mishaps of an unrequited love or whatever you call this obsession of mine. I’ve tried very hard to remind myself that his life is independent of mine. And that he doesn’t care about me. Sometimes I hate him for being who he is. But no matter how incredible the pain is afterwards, nothing compares to the seconds I would see him, see his smile. It’s as if I’m falling into an ocean of him but he’s not there to save me when I drown.

Sometimes I think maybe I’ve become addicted to the bitter-sweet emotions these experiences bring. Maybe I’ve come to love the pain it gives, pain from the fact that no matter what I do, what I say, he’s not mine and he will never be mine. Or maybe I’ve come to love the numbness it brings afterwards from the fact that I don’t have someone like him in my life who loves me the way I should be loved. Maybe.

Valentine’s Day is fast approaching and I’ve never felt so down and unloved than these past few weeks. By saying unloved, I’m talking about love in the romantic sense of the word. Am I asking for too much? Am I asking for an impossible thing? Is someone to have and to hold not part of my existence? Is looking/loving from a distance my destiny? Is this the price I have to pay for choosing this kind of life? Is this what I get in return for being blessed in other aspects of my life? A little LOVE is all I’m asking for…

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