1he One

I never thought he would be The One. Of course, I may only think that way now (I mean, who knows what the future holds for anyone of us?) Nevertheless, I am thankful that I found him. Or, did he find me?

We started out as friends, and I suppose no one thought we would end up together. We had common friends. Ironically, he was then acting as a “middle man” between me and his friend who was then wooing me.

I was looking for options to learn how to drive and a mutual friend recommended him to me, to teach me while using my dad’s service vehicle instead of spending my bucks at a driving school. Most of the time, some of our friends would take a ride with us on the jeep; only occasionally would we be alone. Those times he would seek advice on whether he would return to his ex-girlfriend who seemed to be playing hard-to-get.

Anyway, I did learn the basics of driving. But till now, I don’t have my own license, not even a student’s license! But that’s another story, owing to my laziness to line up at the LTO.

Later, he probably realized that I was too good for him to let go, although if you’d ask him, he would say it’s the other way around. This was after his friend and I decided we would be much better off remaining as friends. And so he asked permission from his friend if he could court me, and he did… And after some time I decided to give a relationship with him a try. I think it was because of his dogged persistence, his “kakulitan.”

That was more than sixteen years ago.

We’ve been married for almost seven years now. (Don’t ask me about the seven-year itch, okay?) Through the ups and downs, every day I always see something to be grateful to the Lord for, especially for giving me my own “The One.”

He’s not perfect. But then, who is? Some even thought, even before we were married, that he was not good enough for me. (I suppose I should be flattered that they could think so highly of me.) Sadly, they had seemed to judge him by his appearance. No, he was not unkempt. On the contrary, he was – he is – a clean-shaven guy. And he is ever so tidy with his things, much more than I am.

They probably saw him then as this guy who did not have a job; they might have thought that he would just live off my hard-earned money (as if I had a lot of it.)

He had a sad, albeit interesting, life. I actually think it’s one for the books or one of those tearjerker drama anthologies you catch on primetime TV every now and then. He was the illegitimate son whose mom left him as a toddler to seek her fortune in another country where she married and died and was buried. She left him with almost no memories of her, not even a grave to visit during Mother’s or All Souls’ Day.

He grew up with his maternal relatives, probably seeking the care that can only be given by your own family, and this he found with his grandfather. He only got to have the closest thing to a father-son relationship with his dad when he was already in college. This was when his dad would give him money to pay the tuition and for his allowance, actually a pittance considering the amount he actually needed for bedspace and clothes and other living costs. To compensate, he had odd jobs, including powering a trike with his gams or looking for slops to feed the pigs.

He was forced to stop for a year out of, as he says, fear from some members of a fraternity who were forcing him to join them. But he returned, determined to finish college. His actual graduation was delayed as he failed to re-take a subject.

He swallowed his pride to ask his dad for money to undergo review classes and take the board exam. After the first review, he decided he was not ready for the exam and decided to undergo another review. As a math major, I would help him understand word problems and solve mathematical equations. Finally, when he took the board exam, he passed. First take. He may not have passed with flying marks, but one take was all it took for him. He was able to land jobs after some well-meaning relatives endorsed him to people they knew.

But they were non-permanent jobs, somehow irrelevant to the work he needed. It was difficult for him. He was willing to start at the bottom, but companies considered him “over-qualified” because he was a licensed engineer. So how could he get the needed work experience? Soon he was out of work, and settled for driving a “colorum” vehicle through the city’s major thoroughfares.

After nine years, I don’t know why, but we finally decided to get hitched. At that time, he was still out of a regular job. Other people probably thought he was an irresponsible guy, but I saw otherwise. I saw how hard he wanted to do something out of his life, despite growing up to be a virtual orphan. He was a decent guy (except when he would get really, really drunk, at which time he would be totally obnoxious and unrecognizable), and I guess my parents saw that too since they saw no cause to object to our relationship, much less our plans.

I probably availed of all loans available to me then, and we got married in the parish where we met and both served.

I remember one of my friends telling me that a guy without a job would be forced to get one once he got married. True enough, that was what happened. Or maybe my prayers were answered. He had a friend who took him in, and although it was laborious work, his industry and decency paid off. He now works as an engineer for a local telecommunications company.

He may not be earning as much as other engineers do, but I say, so what? (Well, maybe when we already have our own kid, I would be changing my tune.) Now he earns more than I do – what can you expect from a government employee – and pays many of the bills around the house. He is so much more adept in handling our expenses and savings, especially since he has no family to support, so unlike most wives who insist on handling their husband’s money, we agreed at the onset that I would leave him alone with his money as long as he provides for the both of us. I, on the other hand, use my own salary to help with other expenses, including my mom’s needs.

We are complementary opposites. My weaknesses are his strengths; his weaknesses are my strengths.

He believes he is poor in English communication. Well, that’s one thing I excel at, modesty aside. So, once in a while, I help him with some official communication. And when he speaks in English, I correct his grammar and explain his errors.

I thrive on “orderly chaos” or “chaotic order” (depends on how you look at it) with my things. He likes them neatly stacked.

I like diverse colors in my closet. He prefers his tops in safe neutrals. (I am slowly forcing a change in this preference by buying him clothes in different colors. I try so hard to convince him that he can carry them off.)

He plans and budgets his money, making him a good credit card owner. I am an impulsive buyer. Thus, I prefer being his supplementary cardholder. I also seldom bring my cards, and if I do use one I ask his permission first (since most of the time, it’s he who ends up paying the bills.)

He is practical in laying out furniture or other bric-a-brac. I carefully study angles, symmetry, color harmony, etc. We have thus learned to ask each other’s opinion first and try to come up with a compromise.

He thinks first before speaking and is calmer in dealing with people. I am more vocal. Yet, I am learning and trying my best to be more prudent in speaking, and reigning in my temper more.

There are some things that we would find agreement in. For one, both of us dislike cigarette smoke. Hooray! None of us in the house are smokers.

We hate lying down on the bed, especially at night, without having bathed and changed into our sleepwear. For that matter, if we feel lazy to change but want to lie down, we make sure the bed is covered.

None of us are keen on going out just for the heck of it. I mean, of course we do that once in a while, but not as a regular I’ll-raise-hell-if-we-don’t-get-out-this-week/month thing. We’re both so low maintenance, just being in each other’s company to watch TV or eating out occasionally or just talking to each other, catching up on our lives, is enough. How boring, you may think, but hey, we don’t want to bother ourselves with superficial things.

He was raised a Christian; I was raised as a Catholic. He “converted” when we were married. To this day, I explain Catholic beliefs, traditions and the like to him. It’s a good thing he believes in Him.

We both believe in not doing ill will to our neighbor. We both hate lies that destroy other people’s character. We both value family. I have grown up lucky to have a whole family, which, although not perfect, has been there for each other. He, who grew up in the custody of relatives, cherishes the family he has found in mine. He even calls my province as his own, more so than his real own province (get it?) and enjoys spending time with my paternal cousins who have, shall I say, treated him as a blood relative. (The death of his maternal grandfather a few years back has caused a painful estrangement with his own cousins.)

He has always treated my family as if they were his own, willingly extending a helping hand, whether to help hammer a nail in place or to reach into his pocket for some cash. Who could ask for more?

Nobody is perfect, not even my The One. But then, if you set out looking for someone who is perfect, I would just wish you good luck. But here’s a tip: the Lord will always give you what you deserve. Your “The One” may not be perfect in the eyes of others, but he may be perfect for you.