Brain Tickles and Droppings

My First Heartbreak

Since I’m stalling time ‘til I do some steady state approximations (it’s not called Ass for nothing), let me tell you about my first heartbreak.

The year was 1997. I was in 6th grade. It was the last 2 months of elementary school when I finally decided to ask someone to be my best friend. For someone who’s socially retarded as me, I had no idea about the dynamics of friendship, let alone best friendship.

Let me backtrack a little. From kindergarten to grade school, I was almost always alone. Girls didn’t like me that much because I couldn’t crack the codes of “sisterhood”. Backbiting puzzled the bejesus out of me. For example, in the third grade, I’d eat lunch with these three girls but whenever one of the three was not present, the other two would say mean things about her. Clueless as I was, when the third girl would show up, I’d ask the two right out if I can speak to her because I was under the impression they didn’t like her. I got labelled as a tattle tale and ended up eating lunch alone again, not being spoken to by the three girls for a while. Thankfully, there were these two young teachers (one of them passed away when I was in college, RIP) who’d join me while I sit alone in the cafeteria and we’d talk about science since I lugged around a huge red science encyclopedia that I got my mom to buy for me from the Reader’s Digest catalogue.

In the fourth grade, there’s this sweet classmate who liked being a big sister to me. She enjoyed pinching me on the cheeks and she let me hold her skirt when we cross the street to buy food during recess. I don’t hold hands and nice as she was, her hands were pretty sweaty all the time. Unknowingly, we’d end up close in high school even if we went to different schools. She’d pick me up from my mom’s place some weekends so we can go to the mall. She’d also drop me home every time cos I was such a wussy. She’d end up to be a dear friend in my adult life and I transform back into that little girl who enjoyed holding the edges of her skirt every time I see her.

Anyway, aside from those experiences of friendship, the only other constant friends I had were the school janitor, Nong Isko, who I talked to every morning cos I was always at school earlier than everyone else. And the dude who’s in charge of Cozy Nook, the small stall that sold candies and other sugary goods. I was only friends with him cos I’d leave my afternoon bag at their stall in the morning and switch it with my morning bag in the afternoon. Yes, I had a bag for my morning classes and a bag for my afternoon classes. Early signs of OCD and people usage, I know.

Sixth grade rolled around and we had a couple of new classmates from the lower sections that got transferred to the “star” section. And there was this tall girl who was quiet and was reading all the time. She sat at the back, of course cos she was tall. I was always seated at the front cos, yeah, hello, I was even smaller then. We ended up sitting next to each other in Filipino class and we’d share about the books we were reading (Love Stories, Sweet Dreams, young adult romances you know haha). I liked her cos she was soft spoken and kind and there was something about the sadness in her eyes that I felt I could relate to.

The friendship blossomed and we were bartering stationeries and talking to each other on the phone. I never knew that sharing stuff could be so fun.

When her birthday was nearing, I was having anxiety attacks. I wanted to do something special and give her something she’d really like. I told myself that would be the day I ask her to be my best friend. I bought these cheap gold-plated rings from Newpost (one of my favorite shops growing up by the way), chose the finest stationery papers and envelopes from my collection, and got my favorite Sweet Dreams pocket book (I was always fascinated by the ones with the black girls on the cover cos I was always curious what it was like being black haha), wrapped them up in a Ziplock bag and stuck a small yet scented card on the outside. I was delighted. (I always liked giving personalized gifts. My rule is, if I can’t tailor a gift to a person’s personality then I really don’t know that person and I shouldn’t be giving her/him a present.)

January 29, 1997 was the day I was gonna give her the gifts with the card that asked, “Would you be my best friend?”. I never got a reply.

Filipino class that day, she sat at the back. It was weird. After class, the bell was ringing, I ran after her. I gave her my Ziplocked gifts of awesomeness. To my surprise, she tore the small card into pieces and threw them at my face. It happened so quickly and suddenly I was on my knees picking up the pocket book and looking for the rings. I was crying. It was so pathetic.

I could never forget that day. Up until now, I have no idea what happened except for a couple of rumors that another girl said something to her some bad things I said about her who shall not be named I had no idea about.

That day scarred me for life. That’s why I hate girls and women and their indirect manipulative dramas. Oh, well.