You met him.
You met him when you were supposed to meet someone else. You met him and it felt like you’ve met him before. A long time ago. Maybe even longer than space and time combined. It felt like you used to breathe the same air. Move the same rhythm. Sing the same songs. If felt like you were once friends. Or best friends. Or lovers. Or soul mates.
You met him and you felt chills down your spine. You had butterflies on your stomach. Like the one you used to feel when you were still in Junior High, wearing bloomers and pleated skirts and annoying grin and ponytails.
You met him and the connection started to entangle into an intricately weaved web of feelings. Of hope. Of love. That you laughed at Fate’s another pun; her favorite inside joke. That you will realize you are still capable of dreaming. Of feeling. Of appreciating.
You remember that first uncertain glimpse he flashed your way. The pun blurted out at the same time that you two laughed so hard and threw knowing looks of connection.
You remember the eyes that followed you wherever you go. Like you don’t need eyes to see. Or ears to listen. Or skin to feel. Like you just need him so that you could function. That uncalled efforts of support to make sure you’re okay. The subtle gestures of concern because you were seemingly clumsy that fateful day you needed another limb to support your balance.
You remember the tight grip on your shoulder blades to assure you that you can do it. You can slide. You can jump. You can fly. The big, strong hand that reached out when you were struggling to lift yourself up. The smoldering stare packaged with a crooked smile that made you struggle even more… losing your strength, losing your senses, losing yourself.
You believe that another soul is made for you, made to love you. To feed you. To protect you. To kiss your scars and heal all wounds. To provide you with endless energy because you’re too tired of living. Of loving. Of losing.
You believe that another soul is possessive of you. And it’s not creepy, no; in fact, it’s lovely. It’s lovely to see how he hushed to his friend to back off. To be careful because you’re there and he doesn’t want anyone near you. To make you feel that you’re his.
You believe that another soul is capable of having a pure heart. A good intention. A bright future. You see how funny he is with his peers, how comfortable he is in pretending to be gay but still exudes extreme masculinity. How pleasant he is with his staff. How sweet he is with his sibling. How childish he is with his parents.
You finally love.
You love his soft voice. His quirks. His inside jokes. How he shifts from being a 10-year old boy who loves to tease you to a full grown man ready to give you unsolicited advices. His view on life. His passion to carry so much responsibilities.
You love his family. How they welcomed you so warmly. How they accepted you not because of your achievements or looks but because you are you. How happy they are together. How thankful they are for living. For breathing. For loving.
You love him. You love him because he sees you beyond your skin. Beyond your titles. Beyond your flaws. You love him because he’s real. Because he doesn’t pretend. He doesn’t brag. He doesn’t judge.
You love him. And you love his girlfriend. The girl of his dreams. The lucky one.
You’re not bitter, no. You’re happy for both of them. You’re happy because you know he deserves to be happy. To be with her. To be with someone who loves him unconditionally.
And then you realize.
You realize you’re happy because he’s happy. You realize you’re not the person to give him the love he deserves. Because the love he needs is way beyond your ego or your pride or your insecurities.
You realize he’s the one. You realize he’s the guy you’re looking for who can sustain years of commitment and love and fights and comebacks.
You realize it only takes one short glimpse to finally see your future. But it will take forever to get it.
You realize he’s just innately kind and a born gentleman. That everything was viewed on a wrong lens. That it was nothing but an honest gesture of kindness given in good faith. But then your heart tells you that everything happened as it should be. That you did not make it up. That it’s not a product of desperation or hallucination or longing for the one that got away.
You smiled when he said he has someone. Then all you could muster is to utter, “Great. Keep it up.”
You smiled. You smiled so genuinely because you know it happened for a reason. Because you know everything happens for a reason. But you realize now is not the time. You realize it will come. In God’s time. In the right time.
They call it destiny. I call it right timing.