Wednesday, August 18, 2010
The Dancing Traffic Policewoman
Crossing one of the most nefarious detours in Metro Manila, where sidewalks are packed with informal settlers in a ridiculously similar way how hot dogs are vacuum packed, and you can see the junk just pressing itself on the plastic, I braved the Makati to San Juan route via Mandaluyong where a really ugly poster depicting how dangerous AIDS could be was hung for everyone to see.
The crowd, the poster, the gloomy, sobbing clouds and the rut I was in was enough. It felt like you just pulled that last sheet of toilet paper in a public restroom. It was horrible.
I knew that in a few days or within a week, my boyfriend would be breaking up with me. He will be. His texts and his behavior and our chemistry is going that way. It's logical economics and economics doesn't care what you feel-- it just happens.
I still keep itsy bitsy pieces of sweet memories that we had. The most recent was the moment he told me that I write much better than E from the Chronicles of E. I didn't really react much but it made me feel warm and fuzzy inside.
But those memories and the like are just an SRS bag for a bullet train collision. The thoughts keep going around in my head while I was driving, and it was almost about to send me to the loony bin until she came.
There she was. At the last intersection that would end one of the most grotesque detours in Metro Manila: The Dancing Traffic Policewoman. She wasn't just dancing. She was grooving! she made moves that ended with vogues and poses that made her kneel on the punished asphalt of Shaw Blvd. I am not exaggerating. This woman danced with heart, body and the funkiest soul since Michael Jackson that people who were halted or goaded by her in traffic couldn't stop but slide down their vehicles' windows and smile, cheer, compliment and even applaud her. There were even bystanders from the deeper parts of the intersection who had to move closer to the sidewalks to catch a glimpse of her. She was being a legend!
The clouds were gloomy. The route was horrid. I felt like I was retching. and there was no silver lining on them clouds at all. None. But there was The Dancing Traffic Policewoman. She was my hero this afternoon.
She made me feel hope and made me think that no matter how ugly the road ahead of me may seem, and no matter how measly her salary could be or how base her lifestyle could get, she can live her life the way people would go out of their way to just find out who she was, what she could do and how she can make them remember her.
It did remind me too, that for a moment in time, my baby who's about to say bye-bye played the role of that Policewoman. He made me happy beyond any other guy I've ever had-- for a time.
But he's been complaining. And it's probably true, I can no longer emotionally handle his trust issues on me. I haven't admitted it to him at all because I'm being scared. Scared that he'd leave me. Scared that he'd saying hurtful things. Just scared.
But with this simple drive through what may seem to be an ordinary afternoon traffic jam reminded me of my selfishness.
My baby deserves to be happy. And it is just plain unfair if I keep him bound to something that no longer makes him happy. And I'm being unfair to myself if I don't confront my fears and just stay stagnant. If I don't learn from this, I might as well be that ugly picture of a person drenched with blood and with an AIDS sign wrapped around my eyes.
He wants to be happy, and if I really love him, I want him to be happy too.
This week will probably end with an ending and a beginning. There are valuable things to be learned. Special memories to be commemorated. Doors to close and windows to open. And finally, if he allows it, become his friend.
If he does find it amiable, then he'll be my first ex boyfriend to actually be a friend-- in exchange to the fact that I'm his first boyfriend. (That's too much to expect, eh?)
I cannot prolong this anymore.
I love him.
And much like the Dancing Traffic Policewoman, who gave me such a unique experience, that I saluted and smiled at when I passed through her as she gave the signal for my lane to go. I, too, must follow my baby's signal, say my piece that he deserves for the happiness he has given me, and let him make others happy the way he made me happy for seven blissful months of his company or just simply me being alone wondering about him and cherishing what we have in my thoughts.
My destination continues to come closer but people like him will always be remembered.
I love him.