I am writing you this letter to greet you a happy birthday and to make a confession.
You are not my type.
You are not the tall, fair, chinito, corporate guy with the model features that I always wanted to end up with. You are not the guy who would always bring me to the movies twice or thrice a week, drive me out of town every weekend, and bring me to fine dining during special occasions. You are not the guy who would always have a book tucked under his arms, ready to read with me anytime. You are not the macho guy who would convince me to go to the gym with him, or intimidate other guys around him. You are not the guy who would bring to life the love life I’ve always imagined.
Because I imagined a love life that would require a lot of effort. I imagined waking up everyday and being reminded that I have a boyfriend and so I would need to put on make up and spray on a new scent because mine is so… not sexy. I imagined having to shop for a new set of clothes because I would want to look great every time you introduced me to your friends. I imagined having to learn to cook, to eat at fancy restaurants, to learn to be sporty, to learn to be EXTRA-caring, to learn to be THE ideal girlfriend. I imagined a two-sided love life - all happy and sunshine on one side, difficult on the other.
In the nine months that we’ve been together, I became certain that really, you are not my type, and most certainly, my relationship with you is not the one I always imagined.
You and my relationship with you, is way better.
You are not the chinito and model-looking guy I wanted to end up with, because you are the moreno, short guy who makes me feel secure not with his built and looks, but with his kind words and loving gestures. You won’t bring me to the movies or bring me out of town, or treat me to fine dining because you always asked me what I want, and I realized I rarely want any of those. We both wanted movies at home and we both love the food you lovingly cooked for me. You remember the things I like and buy them as gifts for special occasions. You are not the bookish guy I wanted, because you are the artist who makes me see the beauty of SEEING things and appreciating the details. I can’t talk to you about books but I can always talk to you about life, about real stories, about real places and real people. You are definitely macho, not in the way macho guys are “macho,” but in the way you pray before meals, the way you let yourself be amazed by small things, the way you can talk your way to things, and the way men are intimidated by your wit and charm.
Being with you wasn’t how I imagined my love life would be because I didn’t have to put on more make up or change my scent because you never failed to make me feel beautiful, especially when you tell me I’m pretty, which is mostly during the times when I forgot to put on my make up. I didn’t have to learn to be the ideally “caring” girlfriend because as you’ve said, you have always been looking for someone as lazy and selfish as me, whom you can take care of. :)
You are better than I imagined because I never imagined love to be this easy and effortless. I never imagined caring for someone can be so natural. I never imagined that anyone who loves like you can be so selfless.
Thank you, thank you for showing me how it is to love and be loved beyond how I thought I deserve.
Happy birthday, mahal! :)