KingMab

paano kita kakalimutan kung sa lahat ng gagawin ko ikaw ang naaalala ko

ang gusto kong makausap paggising sa umaga at ang pinapangarap na makaakap habang nakapikit ang mga mata

sabay nagplano at nangarap sa bubuuin nating pamilya

ang dating akala ko ikaw na

mawawala pa pala

The one who completed my being

How I hope you realized how you truly matter in my eyes

I love you, my love

Some men aren’t bad. Some men aren’t liars, manipulators, or ghosts in human form. Some men show up, try their best, and still manage to leave you questioning everything.

And that’s the thing no one warns you about.

We know how to handle the assholes. The ones who break your heart and don’t even bother to send a refund. We get over them by gathering with the girls, ordering something greasy, and absolutely roasting his entire existence. The tragic sex. The emotional intelligence of a damp sock. The fact that his dick was either embarrassingly small or curved like a C—because let’s be honest, the men with the worst personalities never seem to be packing much.

It’s easy to torch that bridge and strut away while it burns.

But what do you do with the ones who gave you just enough? The ones who didn’t hurt you outright, but left you feeling empty anyway? The ones who dangled the possibility of a future just close enough that you convinced yourself, maybe if I wait a little longer...

That was Noah.

A man who wasn’t toxic, wasn’t cruel, wasn’t playing games. A man who, on paper, checked all the right boxes. And yet, he was still a lesson.

Because sometimes, the hardest people to walk away from aren’t the worst ones. They’re the ones who are almost, but not quite.

When Almost Felt Like Enough

Noah came into my life like a man who had perfected the I’m ready for something real performance. No confusion. No mixed signals. No what are we? conversations. Just straight-to-the-point, I know what I want energy. And for a while, I actually believed it.

More than that—I convinced myself this must be fate.

You know the delusion. The I wasn’t even looking, so this must be meant to be nonsense. The fairytale logic we use to justify why we’re diving in headfirst instead of realizing we just happened to be bored at the right time.

How many times have we all fallen for that?

I don’t fall for words easily, but this man? He had a way of speaking that felt solid. He didn’t just say things—he made them sound like certainties.

And at first, I believed him.

When I was upset, he listened. When we talked, he remembered details. When I was stressed, he asked what he could do.

And when you’ve spent years being the one who always carries the conversation, always initiates, always cares more—someone simply paying attention feels like magic.

It felt rare—because, honestly, maybe it is rare. Either I am meant to embrace my destiny as an eccentric cat lady, or men today are truly an endangered species. We raised women to be independent, but we forgot to teach men how to handle an independent woman.

And before anyone starts—yes, an independent woman can need a man. We’re allowed to.

At work, we constantly preach about how collaboration is key. It’s literally a corporate buzzword we throw into interviews to make ourselves sound like team players. So why, suddenly, is it a crime to say, yes, I am self-sufficient, but I want partnership?

For a moment, I let myself believe I could finally exhale.

Because for once, I wasn’t chasing the feeling of being wanted—it was just there.

I felt desired. I felt seen. The way he looked at me had weight, like he had been searching for something and somehow found it in me.

He looked at me the way I look at an ice-cold glass of water at maghrib after fasting all day—desperate, relieved, grateful.

Or, for some, the way they look at their first puff of nicotine after a soul-crushing shift.

Or the way a broke college student eyes an UberEats promo code at 2 a.m. after a night out.

Or—if you need a visual—imagine Bruce from Matilda in a dark room with that legendary chocolate cake. That level of hunger.

That’s how it felt.

And I let myself believe it meant something.

The Slow Realization That This Wasn’t Going to Work

Noah was kind. He was sweet. But he was also completely unavailable.

Not emotionally—oh, he was great at the deep talks, the heart-to-hearts, the kind of conversations that make you feel like you’re the only woman in the world. The problem was, that was the only time he ever made me feel like a priority.

Because outside of those moments? He wasn’t showing up.

I don’t mean he was inconsistent in an obvious way—no disappearing for weeks, no weird gaps in communication. In fact, on the dot, every weekday, he called me at 4 PM.

But he was consistently just out of physical reach.

And the most frustrating part?

He chose it.

Every single weeknight, he was with his kids. Even on the nights they were supposed to be with their mother. He refused to let her have them alone.

And look, I’m not saying a man should ever put a woman above his children—he shouldn’t. No sane woman is asking for that.

But if you want to be in a relationship, you have to make space for one.

And he didn’t.

He wouldn’t.

Maybe he couldn’t.

And here’s the thing—when you’re the woman on the other side of that, you can’t say a damn word about it. Because how dare you? How dare you suggest that a father carve out even the smallest piece of time for a relationship? How dare you imply that love requires balance?

So I said nothing.

I swallowed the guilt. I sat in the silence. I convinced myself that asking for more would make me selfish. That wanting to feel chosen sometimes was wrong. That the slow ache in my chest was my problem, not his.

Because that’s what happens when you date a man like Noah—you start apologizing for needing anything at all.

The Breaking Point (Quiet, But Loud as Hell)

No door-slamming. No screaming match. No dramatic "how could you?"

Just me, staring at my phone, rereading yet another weak excuse wrapped in a good intentions bow, realizing I had officially run out of patience.

That was it. That was the moment.

I could keep adjusting my expectations, keep accepting the bare minimum with a smile, keep gaslighting myself into believing this was just a rough patch instead of the reality: this man was never going to show up the way I needed him to.

And I had done that too many times before.

So, I did something radical—I stopped.

I took a step back. I got quiet. I didn’t beg for more, didn’t send a long, emotional paragraph, didn’t demand he explain himself. I just… let the space between us grow.

And the most telling part?

He didn’t fight for it.

Not really. Not in the way that mattered.

Why “The Good Ones” Are Sometimes the Hardest to Leave

Leaving the ones who hurt you is easy.

Leaving the ones who almost love you the way you deserve? That’s the kind of hard that sneaks up on you.

Because almost makes you wonder. It makes you hesitate. It makes you question whether you were wrong. Maybe if you had been more patient, maybe if he had just a little more time, maybe if you had settled just a little bit more.

But I had done enough maybes.

And I’m done settling for half-measures.