Highway to Happy

8 o'clock of the night before our anniversary, I received a message from an officemate asking a favor: She needed help in our tax computation due the next day. If I were willing to help, I should be in the office by 7am. I understood the urgency of the text, so I assured her I'll be there.

Come 7:30am the following day, I was rushing to get to the office, since I was already late by half an hour. Blame the Monday traffic. I skipped my coffee routine, walked double time and struggled in carrying my ripped paper bag.

And then I saw this:

Using work to make me come to office earlier was his sureshot idea to invite me to a breakfast date. (He knows me well. = Alam nya martyr ako.)

Lookie! I asked the boyfriend to give me any book. Even a book I had read before. I just wanted to find out what he would pick. Surprisingly, he picked this! A children's book about the simplest and truest definitions of love. It was the sweetest thing! Deserving of a separate entry, definitely.

To formally celebrate our anniversary, we had dinner at Apartment 1B. I diligently researched for a not-so-far from the office restaurant, aside from those in Greenbelt and Ayala Triangle. A few clicks lead me to a review that raved about Apartment 1B. I decided to rely on it and the restaurant did not disappoint!

Their vegetable samosas were the perfect appetizer! Boyfriend and I munched on them happily. Definitely ordering this again on our next visit.


We ordered pastas (bolognese and carbonara) and roast chicken. Ordinary food, yes, but with extra-ordinary taste! I am no food critic but I know when I am happy with what's in my plate. And I must say, our tum-tums were rejoicing that night!

White Toblerone Cheesecake! Another must-try!

Remember the ripped paper bag I mentioned I was carrying? THAT was the paper bag. It was full of staple wires when I gave it to him. He made fun of it, of course, and said it was So ME. haha!

I have nothing else to write. I am one happy little ninja.



8 years and you still make my heart do cartwheels. :)))))

The wooden plank and the sea water, plus some 45 ft. worth of anxiety, fear, regret and adrenaline in between! Oh, and THE DAMAGE. The bruises look terrible, I know, but, and I say this with all honesty, IT WAS SO WORTH IT!

I'll post a blow-by-blow account of this death-defying experience soon! *pinky promise* :)

This might not be the perfect moment for me to start writing this anniversary entry. Last night, we got into a pseudo fight. And rather than arguing with you, I chose to just sleep it off. I didn’t say goodnight; I gave up on it and slept.

Which is not exactly a fitting picture to stand side by side with the “mature couple” title. Oh well, I’m writing, anyway.

Today is supposed to be a celebration of the eight wonderful years we spent together. This is supposed to be the part where I write how perfect we are for each other, how easy everything is, how life’s puzzle pieces just miraculously fall into place when I’m with you. This is the day of the year I brag about having the most patient boyfriend. Sure, all those are true- on most days. But now I want to write about the other days.

You are a jealous boyfriend. Your mood changes whenever I mention about those guys we figuratively labeled as “sensitive topics”, even though there is no valid reason for them to belong in that basket. You are also quite sensitive and I get surprised when you feel offended by my innocent remarks. Plus, you are not a very good story-teller. Whenever we talk about how our day went, I would consume most of the hour telling you every detail, in chronological order, of the most boring day. You, on the other hand, will stick into general facts: who, what, where. It is not because you’re trying to cover things up, I know. Like what you say, you are just not gifted with the “skill”. But please, try getting better at it or I’ll be forced to sort of make a checklist for you.

On the other hand, I am, for lack of a better description, a hormonal monster. I shift moods in the most unpredictable way. I say “no” when I meant to say “yes” and I used the words “I’m fine” as code for “I’m devastated”. I am guilty of listening to how I interpret what you say when I’m supposed to be listening to you. And I get annoyed when you don’t look at me when we’re talking WHILE we cross the street. Imagine how unreasonable that is!

But eight years. Wow. Eight years of all that.

When novelists write about “spark” and “magic”, perhaps they don’t necessarily point to the giddy feeling which naturally comes with a young love: the sparkle of the firsts. Perhaps, they were trying to put label into the calm and silent force that pulls two people together, the everyday realization of making it work, the energy to make sacrifices and demand for them, the inner sunshine that makes everything feel better. Perhaps they were trying to illustrate that extra energy you put into a relationship that, when you think about it, comes from nowhere.

Lately I’ve been noticing the smallest of things we STILL do for each other. Suddenly, your “Are you home already?” and “How was your day?” constant texts are magnified. I am still, and will forever be, amazed by the simple clarity of how good we are to each other. I guess that’s the trick. More than the passion that is never really fully present all of the time, it is the special kind of kindness and compassion that we have for each other that keeps us from throwing away the entire relationship when things get difficult- when we are being difficult.

It has been a long time since the first times: the first “official” date, the first kiss, the first kiss and make-up. We may have long gone past the honeymoon stage, but we both know, without a trace of doubt, that the best things are yet come..

..as long as the world turns this way.

Happy 8th anniversary. I love you.

Remember this?

My Valentine's gift for the boyfriend

That was the result of 16 straight hours of labor. It may not appear like I put that much effort in it based on the final product, but believe me, it wasn’t easy! Following intricate instructions in mixing colors, religiously sticking to the number labels (because this is a “paint by numbers” thing), although I cheated on a few tricky parts (sorry!), trying to paint within those tiny flower petals weren’t a joke. It sucked out all the patience in my veins. The box was labeled “for kids 8 yrs old and above”, so I didn’t want to give up being a 22 yr old lola. I pushed myself to paint every bare inch of that huge cardboard and succeeded after so many hours. Fine, it wasn’t the “ego” thing that motivated me; it was all L-O-V-E.

These past days I have been putting so much effort into another project (or projects) intended to make a little boy happy. You see, he has been doing so many of the grandest and smallest things for me and these are just my mediocre ways (compared to his) of giving him back that kind of happiness, too. :)

Anyway, enough of this writing. There’s a surprise I have to cook up. Wish me luck!