How to hide your boyfriend from your dad (and other advice from Dr. Love)
Much has been said about the day of hearts — it’s the mushiest day of the year; it’s a cliché; it’s cheesy; it’s commercial; it’s the day Kris Aquino was born. (I bet you didn’t know that!)
Valentine’s Day feels much like Christmas. There’s a lot of gift-giving, card-sending, and love-spreading going on. If, during Christmas, everywhere you go you hear Christmas songs, well, it’s even worse on Valentine’s Day. There is absolutely no escaping love songs on the radio, on TV, or even on the Internet. Decorations for the season are also hard to miss. The only thing missing is mistletoe — maybe because a kiss is not enough?
When I was younger, I actually thought that Valentine’s Day was a holiday. There seemed so much hype about it that I believed it warranted a family get-together, just like Christmas. In my mind, a party was called for, complete with food, presents (not just for significant others, but for me, too), and lots of picture-taking.
I was quite dejected when I learned that celebrations for Valentine’s Day were not so. It lost its importance and I stopped looking forward to it.
Everybody else continued to celebrate it, though. In school, the month of February can be one big spectacle. Some parts of the campus are decked out with paper cupid cutouts and balloon hearts. Proms and dances are painstakingly scheduled on Valentine’s. Flower vendors come all the way from the church to sell roses to hapless young boys. The canteen sells heart-shaped chocolates and candies. And even the school bulletin contains some trivia about the day of hearts and the science of love.
Having Valentine’s Day fall on a school day was always a pain in the neck. For some odd reason, everyone seemed to feel that I was an expert on love, and so brought all their pains and complaints before me. And February being the month of love, I was constantly kept busy by a stream of hormone-fueled friends in need of counsel.
Perhaps one of the most common problems I had to solve was how to keep a relationship secret, especially after Valentine’s Day, when a girl would commonly have to take home at least one bouquet of flowers, a box of chocolates, and a good-sized teddy bear (not all necessarily from one boyfriend).
“Illegal” relationships were plentiful and tricky. “What do I do? Hindi puwedeng malaman nila mommy!” is a statement I’ve heard many times. Often, I wanted to tell them to just give the stuff to me — Hah! Problem solved! Instead, however, I take the safe route and suggest, “The gifts are from my best friend. She gave flowers and teddy bears to all her boyfriend-less friends!” I can’t keep track of the number of times that I was the so-called best friend they would name. Whether their parents believed them or not wasn’t my problem anymore. None of them called me to check anyway.
Gifts weren’t the only things I was used as an excuse for. Midnight phone calls were attributed to me, and I’ve been scolded at least once by a frustrated parent for calling so late.
Once, I rolled in as a fifth wheel and an excuse when I spent half the night on a friend’s terrace while she and her boyfriend and another couple canoodled in her room.
I was always the friend that someone had to meet at the mall whenever a couple who had not outed themselves had to rendezvous. Also, for some reason, the people who use me as an excuse also find it necessary to tell me about their escapades, ending with the inevitable, “’Wag mong sabihin kahit kanino, ha?! Ayaw pa kasi naming ipaalam sa iba.”
Another common problem I have is the shy guy. He’s the one who says, “I don’t know how to approach her. Will you do it for me?” I have played the bridge more than a few times. I’ll ask the girl something, and tell the boy her answer, or he’ll have me tell her something and report her reply. Like Hermione Granger of Harry Potter fame, I am sometimes tempted to say, “I’m not an owl!”
As medium — okay, that sounds a bit more undas than Valentine’s — or middleman, I am also expected to give gift ideas complete with the places to get them. For example, flowers from Dangwa, stuffed animals from Blue Magic, and Ferrero chocolates (in heart-shaped containers, of course!) from, well, any supermarket. On occasion, Mr. Shy Guy even has the nerve to ask me to buy them for him. I never have the heart to refuse. That’s what I get for giving advice.
When not asking for help, my friends make me their shoulder to cry on, their emotional shock absorber. I actually like doing this because it makes me feel like a psychiatrist whenever I get to hear all their secrets, then give them tips on how to solve their love woes.
Cheating, lying, cold-shouldering, arguing, flirting, courting, and jealousy — I’ve heard them all. Sometimes, I would even hear both sides of the story without any of the parties knowing that I am counseling both of them. It’s a bit voyeuristic; maybe that’s why I enjoy this role.
Ironically, many couples I know have broken up on or before V-Day, making it D-Day instead. Apparently, people are more jealous and suspicious this time of the year. I try my best to patch up a relationship, but I don’t always succeed. Well, c’est la vie. That’s life.
There are also those who come to me asking how to start a relationship. Guys who are absolutely clueless about the girls they like will ask me trivia about a girl, such as her favorite color, music or flower. Or they seek help on creative ways to ask girls to become their girlfriends.
Back then, the most creative idea I could come up with was a serenade during lunchtime with flowers on hand. Think Parokya ni Edgar and Harana. Hello! How would I know? Shouldn’t guys think of crazy stuff themselves?
If someone asks me now, though, I have a few daring dallies to suggest. One is to somehow find a horse and know how to ride it like a prince and hand a single long-stemmed rose to your lady love while on horseback. Another is to lie in the middle of the road and declare your love for your partner, à la The Notebook.
My suggestions may sound farfetched, but they have been done before. Someday, maybe someone will do it for me. Yuck. How mushy of me.
On that note, I’ll relate my last duty to the troubled on the day of hearts, which is to comfort those without a special someone. Being a single lady myself, that’s not so hard to do. All it takes is a bag of Chocnut (or Choco Mani), some kick-ass music (Beyoncé’s Single Ladies [Put A Ring On It] comes to mind), and a few single lady friends — and like magic, no more lonely woes.
So, all you young and not-so-young ladies out there, this Valentine’s Day (or Single Awareness Day), remember, there is never a problem too difficult to overcome. Be yourself. Magpaka-totoo ka! Don’t worry; he’ll finally notice that you’ve lost weight, your braces, or your glasses. Blah, blah, blah… and all the other clichés people say.
Love it or hate it, this special day of love is here to stay. Cliché or not, we listen to the quotes and songs anyway. I haven’t been a fan of Valentine’s Day for a long time, but who knows? Maybe this year, I’ll finally get to celebrate it right — not with party, food or counseling, but with someone (anyone?) who loves me. How mushy again. Yuck.
As for the many guys and gals I’ve counseled in the past, I think my career as Dr. Love has, as of today, come to an untimely end.
Happy V-Day to all! Be safe, but more importantly, be happy.
