If anyone had told me a few months ago that I'd be in a real relationship—like, a real one, with feelings and forehead kisses and inside jokes—I would've laughed, rolled my eyes, and gone back to work.
But here I was. Experiencing it.
And it was… something.
Alvin and I started going on dates. Real dates. Like the kind where you actually plan outfits and get butterflies and pretend not to care but deep down you do. From cute cafés tucked behind flower stalls to lakeside walks with roasted corn in hand, we did it all.
One Friday evening, Alvin showed up at my workplace unannounced. Helmet in hand, bike parked at the gate, looking every bit like a scene from one of those cringey romance dramas.
Only this time—it was my life.
He waved at me casually as I stepped outside.
But what followed was chaos.
Three of my colleagues—Carine, Pamela, and Jefferson—were at the balcony upstairs. The screeching I heard from above nearly sent birds flying. And don't get me started on Monday.
"So that's your boyfriend, Kim?"
"Does he have a brother?"
"That face! He looks like he drinks imported milk only!"
I laughed it off, but the teasing didn't stop for a week. Every time my phone pinged, someone would jokingly say, "It's your pretty boy again." And truth be told, Alvin did have the face. That smooth skin, those innocent eyes, that rich-boy-since-birth glow.
One weekend, he suggested something different. "Let's climb Mt. F," he said. The highest peak in B-town and the whole country.
We packed our bags, hiked halfway up, set up a small camp and lay under the stars, side by side in sleeping bags, whispering stupid questions about the universe and laughing over dry bread and bottled water.
We watched the sun set behind the jagged hills—fiery orange fading into indigo—and by dawn, we were up again, teeth chattering, watching it rise. I rested my head on his chest as the first rays touched the sky.
It was perfect.
Until it wasn't.
While trekking down, we ran into a group of three girls also making their way up. One of them—a tall, curvy girl with the kind of nyash that made physics look suspicious—locked eyes with Alvin.
And held it.
Then came the signals. Head tilts. Lip bites. Hair flips.
Lord Jesus.
I narrowed my eyes and instinctively clutched Alvin's arm. Tight. Then I leaned in and gave him a small peck on the cheek.
He turned and gave me a surprised smile, clearly thinking it was just spontaneous affection.
The girl didn't stop. She walked slowly, giving Alvin the side-eye like he was a buffet and she was starving. The worst part? Alvin didn't seem to notice. Typical man.
Meanwhile, let a guy even breathe near me too confidently, and I was out here throwing icy glares and weaponized silence.
Tired of the show, I grabbed Alvin's wrist and practically dragged him down the trail.
We found a spot and decided to rest. I hadn't slept much the night before and within ten minutes, I was knocked out on his shoulder.
Ten minutes turned into an hour.
When I finally woke up, the sun was higher—and the drama was louder.
Guess who?
Same girls. And Alvin was talking to Miss Signals herself. Laughing. Nodding. Engaged.
Apparently, she was telling him about the last Mountain Race of Hope she participated in.
Wow. What a touching story. Truly.
Can he not see she's trying to seduce him?
I folded my arms and bit my lip, choosing to breathe instead of explode. I reminded myself I was evolving. Growing. So I said nothing. Just watched. Listened.
After a few minutes, I calmly said, "Let's keep going."
Alvin turned, slightly confused but agreeable. "Sure."
He said goodbye to the girls.
I just nodded, arms crossed, the nod of "I saw everything, but I'm not going to start a war… yet."
As we walked on, I slipped my hand into his. He looked at me and smiled again, that innocent, dimpled smile.I softened. A little.
Love is sweet. But it can be bitter too.
Not because of the person—but because of the feelings it awakens. The fears. The little bruises to your pride. The vulnerability.
Still… I wouldn't trade it.
Love demands growth. Understanding. Patience.
And above all, courage.
Courage to stay.
To not run. Again!