Pandabear Project: 4 of 100

It's funny how from all the things that I wrote in my previous blog, my dear Ico focused on the 100 days thing. There is indeed a bad side to that personal ultimatum that I made. It's not really for me. It's for him. I don't want to waste his time with a girl who isn't going to stick around. I would rather slowly learn to love him than be my old obsessive self. And boy, could I get obsessive.

Mark knows this about me. Maybe more than JL could ever know. I don't fall in love easily. He wanted me too, for all intensive purposes I was exhibiting the giddiness of someone who found her Robin-type in a guy she was dating. In retrospect, surely I loved him a lot at that time. But it was the added factors in our relationship, the danger of it all and the lack of moral compass of it all that made my blood boil. And somehow I was swept away by the telenovela lines and plot twist. When I strip it down, there are very few things that was real in our relationship. The way he held me and the way that he needed me was real. But the way that I needed him had been me relinquishing my control of my own inhibitions.

I admit that I am whinning to my roommates about some details regarding my new relationship. But the truth is, I feel at peace. For the first time in my entire personal history, I am in a relationship that doesn't make me lose my cool.

Peace of mind and romantic relationships have never included me in the same sentence. It's odd and I am beginning to thing that I might be freaking out a little bit. In a good way.

You know that feeling that you are slowly having a crush on your boyfriend. That tinge of missing someone when you know that he's an sms away? I am having that now. And I like it. I think I prefer this to all the other kinds of love that have been served to me thus far. The others spoil so easily. In this one, I am still picking the ingredients and I still need to prepare them. Later, he can teach him how to cook and I will teach him how to season to taste.

What I learned from my parents is that in a relationship that lasts, there should be a level of silent love that suspends the couple in a constant state of romance. It's not seen in the big gestures of love. It's in the way they look at each other, the nonchalant way they sit on the couch next to each other just be near each other.

It's also in the way that they sleep in separate directions at first and wake up in the morning spooning. Like in the span of the night, they know that they are supposed to wake up in that position. Love draws people together, I know about true love.

It's not the kind of thing that makes you want to change a person but the kind that inspires you to be a better version of yourself. And because he sees a better you, he doesn't need to be told to step up his game and he just keeps astride. When he is ready and when he deems in necessary, he will pick up the pace and before you know it, he's there right next to you, in the same level.
Some women drag their men to this level. I believe that we can nudge them in the right direction. People don't change. They never do. They unearth their true nature or they adjust.

Yesterday he sent me some cheesy lines and I told him that I respond to sincerity. I want him to understand that although I am a girl like the many others he dated, I am a woman who doesn't need fake catchy phrases.

Poetry is a lost art among men. I think they have forgotten that women love this. I am a woman of the arts. I love poetry and I love sincerity. Things don't need to rhyme for it to be a love poem. It could be in the simple things that you say or do.

I want my Ico to know that he doesn't need to resort to any of the things that works with other girls. I am made of tougher stuff. And those things would bounce off without having any effects.

It's funny that when he told me that there were gays who were trying to come near him I got jealous. ^.^ I haven't been jealous in a long time and had the right to be. I told him to tell them to keep their limbs and suckers away from him or I would cut it all off. And that if they asked him why he isn't as friendly as before that "My girlfriend is a scary Batanguenya." I am sure they can imagine a girl with a butterfly knife. ^.~

I don't share food. I don't share my boyfriend. Anyone willing to risk it would be compromising more than their limbs. My exes know this about me. My looks can kill.