Meet Buggy.

She first belonged to Le Beau’s older brother.  I remember seeing this car for the first time in 2004.  They picked us up — me and my cousin — from the house in Elizabeth for a movie night.

He said my cousin was teasing him about me, even before I arrived in New Jersey.  He was hesitant; he was already chatting up a girl and it was going well.  He caught a glimpse of me from the front door.

We, plus the middle brother and another good friend, caught Man on Fire at Loews.  He sat a couple of seats away from me.  It was a great movie.

After, he and his brother drove my cousin and I back to Elizabeth.  We were at the back seat.  He casually said, “You smell nice.”  It was oddly weird.  Or adorably weird.  I think it was more of the latter because three days later, we got together.  A year after, it was his turn to fly to Manila and spend a month with my family.

It ended a few more months after that visit.  We tried to be friends at first but it never really worked out.  I constantly checked on him from time to time, as networking moved from Friendster to Facebook.  He seemed good.  I stopped checking.

A year after breaking up, his brother married my cousin.  We were paired up in the entourage.  I was with someone else already.

Seven years later, two weeks after I buried my father, he came back to Manila, with his brother, my cousin and their daughter for a short visit.  Three days later, he asked why we we’re not together.  When he left after 10 days, I realized I never really answered that question.

My seven-year relationship ended bitterly and dirtily.  I cried too long, he kept me company.  As much as he was helping me through the breakup, he was still asking why we’re not together.

I tried to date around, but he was still there, asking why we’re not together.

I was in the middle of graduate school, and he kept asking.  He was persistent.  Consistent.  Like a man with a mission.

Before that year ended, he asked again, “Why are we not together?”  I finally replied, “I have no idea.”  Then, it was like 2004 all over again.

Fifteen weeks later, while walking out of the baggage claim area in Charles de Gaulle Airport, I saw him again.  It was the best surprise of my life.

It was the best ten days after what seemed to be the worst and longest last 18 months of my life.

Two academic terms and pile after pile of workload after, I stare at my computer screen with unbelieving eyes. MNL NRT DTW JFK.

Six days. And I get to see him with Buggy again.

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I have been looking for an opportunity to tell this story in this blog because this is the happiest I have ever been in my entire life.  I would liked to thank the Daily Post for inspiring me.  

And to my readers, may the Buggy you deserve come (back) to you. :)