Finding Love In A Nameless Place
Hi, I’m Romantic. Yup, that’s my name.
I live in a nameless world, where people and places are identified by anything but a proper noun. It sounds cool and all, but would you still like the idea if you found the love of your life and you don’t even know their name?
“So tell me about the first one, the funny one?” the bartender of The Bar On The 3rd Block asked. This was my safe haven, a hole in the wall that many ignore. We’ve been talking for almost 15 minutes now about how my heart got broken. Twice. Which is a very classic scene in this type of place. And for a bartender I just met, whose job is to entertain patrons, I felt comfortable to over-share.
I met the girl a month before the school year starts when I was falling in line to register for what electives to take. It was one boring and hot afternoon when everybody was there for a last-minute sign-up. The only companies I had with me were my earphones and an early 2000s playlist on my iPod Shuffle. But a group of girls made me hit pause because something enticed me to eavesdrop. No, it was only her.
The one with a Hello Kitty watch. She was talking enthusiastically, cracking jokes to her friends while in the long line. And like a budding stand-up comic, she knew exactly when to throw the most hilarious punchlines. And, oh my god, she had a default smiley face. Oh, that beaming smile is infectious. It takes so much effort for me to maintain a poker face. But you know how your facial muscles are straining when you’re trying to hold a laugh?
And it took a well-timed glance from her to catch my guilty face that’s been staring at her far too long. So I acted like I was talking to my mom on my ‘phone.’
“Oh yeah, yes, I’m still here in school, mom. Such a long line here.” My eyes were glancing sideways to check if she’s still looking. She was.
“Yup, I’ll be home right away… uh… yeah.” My act continues.
But she just pouted her lips to my pants. I looked down, and I saw my exposed earphones plugged in, the iPod clipped to my pocket. She knew it’s a show. Oh shit. She giggled. They all did.
And nothing. I froze. Nothing came out of that. That’s how much of a loser I was. But my iPod remained on pause. And that’s how I knew she’s planning to take a microfinance special course. I guess I’m taking that, too.
And from that day on, it snowballed to inching myself closer to her. On the first day of class, I sat beside her. She completely forgot who I was. So I broke the silence and confessed that I was the creepy guy from the registration office last time. That cracked her up. Surprisingly, we eventually became good friends. We became partners in class reports. We became drinking buddies on this very bar, The Bar On The 3rd Block.
“Here?” the bartender sounded amused. “Oh, I think I’ve seen her, the one you’re always with. So what happened?”
It was in the middle of the semester. Things were going great. We’ve been dating for two months around that time. But she had to go back to Cebu because her parents were separating and their family business was at risk of bankruptcy. She needed to take over as the eldest child. She dropped out of class and booked a flight the next day. I haven’t heard from her since then. I didn’t even have time to say goodbye. I was devastated. I was drinking at this place every night.
“I see you. I know,” the young bartender interrupted in a mocking tone. “And this is where you met your heartbreak #2, right?”
Yup, he came into the picture unexpectedly. It happened on one of those days where I was drinking and wallowing here listening to the playlist of the Go On Girl singer. He entered and looked lost in his black oversized shirt and messy hair. Panning his view of the room from left to right, extending his neck, he was looking for someone, or something? I didn’t mind at first, as I was feeling the song playing on my earphones. Not until he went straight to me and asked if he could sit on my table as the only available socket was right there; he needed to have his phone charged.
He called on one of the servers for his order. He just sat there quietly in front of me while I was staring blankly outside. I was so consumed by the music when I noticed he was mouthing the same lyrics. I’m so sick of love songs, so tired with tears. So I slowly shifted my attention to him. He smiled and mouthed, it’s too loud. He was referring to my iPod, with the volume on full blast. I have all reasons to just continue listening, but there was something about him that made me pull my earphones out from my ear and strike a conversation. And it is with engaging exchanges like this one where I get to be interested in a person.
What did we talk about? We found out that we both love the same RnB artist; that we both think his underrated song was Let Me Love You. And, yes, the cover of that song in Glee was the best version we’ve heard. He was taking interior design and I am an architecture student. His favorite color is black while mine was white, which we both clarified that they’re technically shades, not colors.
We both showed all the items we have in our bags — his sketchbook, my phone, his wallet, my cap — everything was either black, gray, or white. And yes, he even showed me his iPod shuffle. Funny how you just find things, right? The full hour that we were laughing out loud due to the many similarities, we have felt like talking to a best friend. But although it was an amazing moment, when he checked his phone to see if it was fully charged, he had to storm out right away because he was late for something. I thought he’d be back, but since then, two weeks from now, we never crossed paths again.
“And you never even got his number?” the bartender served my third bottle with a confused look. I shrugged.
“Do you think a person can fall for someone they just met? It was just unbelievable. The probability of me being on the very spot he needed, how the conversation started, all the common things between us…what’s the explanation for that? Do you think love is something that you seek or is it just something that finds you?”
The bartender sighed, looked down, and thought about it. “I think it can either be of the two. Love is love. It has many presentations and if it’s as big and complex of a feeling as it is, then we shouldn’t be trying to confine it to concepts, right?”
“But what about destiny? You know, on how two people can meet at the most random place and just click. Isn’t that noteworthy?” I rebutted.
“It is, but it doesn’t negate the fact that love CAN BE something you actively decide on. I mean, remember the feeling you had with the girl. Recall how each action you did — even if you can do otherwise — revealed so much of your intention. You decided to eavesdrop, stare at her, take the same course, sit beside her, admit that you were the creepy guy even if you can choose not to. Now those don’t look like something you just waited to happen, right?”
“Mmmhmm.” I nodded in agreement with my lips on the rim of a bottle.
“And how did that feel? Can you easily say that the feelings you had with the girl weigh less compared to the guy you just met? The keyword is ‘easily.’ Things aren’t that simple.”
I would have responded no, but the bartender kept on going as the drinks continued coming.
“It isn’t easy to determine, right? It is confusing, mixed feelings. Maybe we’ve been fed with the most well-crafted narratives about love of meet-cute stories, that we tend to overlook our volition. Taking control of our actions should equally be appealing and magical as the Universe conspiring for two people to meet up.”
“Are you… are you sure you’re just a bartender here? Are you a part-time student of philosophy or something? You’ve got some loaded insights there. They should hire you as a love doctor?” I chuckled and then took the last gulp of my fifth bottle of beer.
“Not mutually exclusive, my friend. I can be both. So who is it going to be? The, uhmm, first one or the second one? And what do you call them?”
The bartender took a calculated word choice, refusing to label people by their sexes was impressive.
I was preparing my things as I collected my thoughts. “Let’s call her Choice, and the guy, Chance. And you know what, I am not sure how to respond to that question for now. But at least I have a name for the two. Thanks for this, but I’ll go ahead.”
The bartender got my payment and shouted as I was already a few feet away, “I think you got one thing wrong, though. The one you met here was definitely Chance. But the one you met in school, she’s not Choice. She’s Timing. And Timing’s a bitch.”
That line cracked me up so bad, I was laughing on my way out. As I opened the door of the Bar On The 3rd Block, I looked back at the bartender and said, “Hey, I think you’re right. But wait, what do I call you?”
Wiping the table clean, the bartender looked me straight in the eye, “That’s for you to decide.”
Read more of Andrew’s short stories:
Andrew Beso is a Manila-based content creator exploring different ways of sharing art — whether it be written, spoken, or visualized. His work, aside from being in Medium, can also be seen on YouTube, Instagram, and TikTok. All his creative expressions use varying styles, lenses, and mediums of storytelling.
