There is always a first in every story, and our started sometime during March 2013.
Part of my job entailed creating contracts for our partners, and I needed some documents from a certain merchant because we had to change the corporate name in our system. A colleague of mine, luckily, was going to meet the new marketing officer, so she invited me to come along with her, so I can personally explain my requirements.
He introduced himself as Gab. He was well-dressed, quiet, and he barely smiled. The answers we received were mostly nods, yesses, or nos. Honestly, he didn’t look like a lot of fun.
After sometime, I was supposed to meet him in their Quezon City branch, the one I was handling separately for our program. He had the documents with him already, but I fell sick on my way, so I had to run home. I was very apologetic, and he was cool, even telling me to get well soon.
On August, my own project in QC kicked off. We met again for their branch’s training.
Same thing. Well-dressed and quiet.
After I trained his staff, I asked him to submit to me another requirement I needed to have the contracts notarized. The next day, I got it through e-mail, and a text message asking if he could ask me a non-work-related question.
“Can I add you in Facebook?”
I swear, despite my refusal to assume on things, I was pretty sure he liked me for one sole reason:
We met twice. He met two of my colleagues more than the number of times he met me, and they never got invited in Facebook.
During lunch, upon seeing his invitation, I found out that we had mutual friends, and one of them was my sister. I called him up. I was excited. I mean, I love common friends. I love the feeling when I find out that someone is friends with my family members or that there’s a long lost relative in the place I’m studying, working or living in.
He said he was classmates with my sister during senior year in college, and that he called my sister “master”.
He waited for me after work, one evening. He stood near the fountain, reading movie posters. He looked adorable in his usual jeans and polo with a long umbrella and a backpack.
Gab always looked presentable. I felt rather embarrassed to think that he’d be tagging along with me to ride a free shuttle, a tricycle and to walk on the sidewalk of a red light district. It wasn’t such a happy routine. I was off to watch a local movie with my sister, her boyfriend and a friend. He was going home to cook for his mom’s birthday, and said that if it wasn’t for that, he would have joined us.
One rainy Monday morning, I was sick. I went to work, but couldn’t make it. Gab, in his own words, “bunny-hopped” through the flood outside his house to get to me. I met him outside the compound of my building, and found it funny that he bunny-hopped through the flood with a guitar on his back. In turn, I cooked pasta for him. We watched an Indian movie, and later on, played and sang for me.
It was the start of something beautiful.
I think, what I adore most about him is the effort he puts in making me feel loved everyday. See, during the time he courted me, Gabby lived in Paco and worked in San Juan. After work, he would pick me up at my office in Pasay, bring me safely to Cubao, stay for a bit and then go home again to Paco. The distance he travelled was around fifty kilometers a day. From the 12th of October until present, Gab made sure he’d see me.
Whenever we walk on a narrow sidewalk, he would continue holding my hand as I trudge behind him and he would take glances at me every five seconds to make sure I’m all right.
Among other things, Gab is a wonderful home cook. I cook, but I bet with my life that if he studied culinary arts back in college, he would have beaten me in the competitions I joined and won at. He plays really good basketball, and I never failed to watch his games since September 30 even if it’s midnight. He plays the guitar and sings, and I record him on cam.
Sometimes, I remember how I found him to be the silent-type, but as time passes and as he grew fonder of me, he talked more and more. One day, he just started dancing like a jellyfish, and playing hide and seek in groceries.
I must admit, I may not fully know how my future husband is, and I may never do because we will keep changing, but I’m flowing with time, and will continue loving this beautiful person whom God had so dearly entrusted to me.
Oh. It’s just sixty-five days to being his Missus Perez. Cheers!
Part of my job entailed creating contracts for our partners, and I needed some documents from a certain merchant because we had to change the corporate name in our system. A colleague of mine, luckily, was going to meet the new marketing officer, so she invited me to come along with her, so I can personally explain my requirements.
He introduced himself as Gab. He was well-dressed, quiet, and he barely smiled. The answers we received were mostly nods, yesses, or nos. Honestly, he didn’t look like a lot of fun.
After sometime, I was supposed to meet him in their Quezon City branch, the one I was handling separately for our program. He had the documents with him already, but I fell sick on my way, so I had to run home. I was very apologetic, and he was cool, even telling me to get well soon.
On August, my own project in QC kicked off. We met again for their branch’s training.
Same thing. Well-dressed and quiet.
After I trained his staff, I asked him to submit to me another requirement I needed to have the contracts notarized. The next day, I got it through e-mail, and a text message asking if he could ask me a non-work-related question.
“Can I add you in Facebook?”
I swear, despite my refusal to assume on things, I was pretty sure he liked me for one sole reason:
We met twice. He met two of my colleagues more than the number of times he met me, and they never got invited in Facebook.
During lunch, upon seeing his invitation, I found out that we had mutual friends, and one of them was my sister. I called him up. I was excited. I mean, I love common friends. I love the feeling when I find out that someone is friends with my family members or that there’s a long lost relative in the place I’m studying, working or living in.
He said he was classmates with my sister during senior year in college, and that he called my sister “master”.
He waited for me after work, one evening. He stood near the fountain, reading movie posters. He looked adorable in his usual jeans and polo with a long umbrella and a backpack.
Gab always looked presentable. I felt rather embarrassed to think that he’d be tagging along with me to ride a free shuttle, a tricycle and to walk on the sidewalk of a red light district. It wasn’t such a happy routine. I was off to watch a local movie with my sister, her boyfriend and a friend. He was going home to cook for his mom’s birthday, and said that if it wasn’t for that, he would have joined us.
One rainy Monday morning, I was sick. I went to work, but couldn’t make it. Gab, in his own words, “bunny-hopped” through the flood outside his house to get to me. I met him outside the compound of my building, and found it funny that he bunny-hopped through the flood with a guitar on his back. In turn, I cooked pasta for him. We watched an Indian movie, and later on, played and sang for me.
It was the start of something beautiful.
I think, what I adore most about him is the effort he puts in making me feel loved everyday. See, during the time he courted me, Gabby lived in Paco and worked in San Juan. After work, he would pick me up at my office in Pasay, bring me safely to Cubao, stay for a bit and then go home again to Paco. The distance he travelled was around fifty kilometers a day. From the 12th of October until present, Gab made sure he’d see me.
Whenever we walk on a narrow sidewalk, he would continue holding my hand as I trudge behind him and he would take glances at me every five seconds to make sure I’m all right.
Among other things, Gab is a wonderful home cook. I cook, but I bet with my life that if he studied culinary arts back in college, he would have beaten me in the competitions I joined and won at. He plays really good basketball, and I never failed to watch his games since September 30 even if it’s midnight. He plays the guitar and sings, and I record him on cam.
Sometimes, I remember how I found him to be the silent-type, but as time passes and as he grew fonder of me, he talked more and more. One day, he just started dancing like a jellyfish, and playing hide and seek in groceries.
I must admit, I may not fully know how my future husband is, and I may never do because we will keep changing, but I’m flowing with time, and will continue loving this beautiful person whom God had so dearly entrusted to me.
Oh. It’s just sixty-five days to being his Missus Perez. Cheers!