Feb. 2 - Kilig in Posso's Prompts

Kilig: (noun:) a feeling of exhilaration or elation caused by an exciting or romantic experience.
(adj:) causing or characterized by a feeling of exhilaration or elation.

Kilig is a tagalog word that has been stolen by the idiotic English language to try to attempt to explain that feeling that causes butterflies in one’s stomach, or that nervous knot tying experience when you meet eyes with someone and instantly you know you’re in love. That inexplicable way your heart melts or you feel those tingling shivers down your spine. Surely, if you have a heart, or have felt the general concept of love, you comprehend that which you felt but couldn’t put into words. Myself, I know that I can count a half dozen times that I can remember that feeling vividly and crystal clear.

She came into Ivory Room while we were cleaning up, counting money and closing one night. Her bleach blonde hair went surprisingly straight and the dark shade of red lipstick she was wearing made her freckled cheeks stand out. She introduced herself, said that she would be working at the piano bar as soon as she got back from Hawaii. Her voice was soft yet assertive and the way she smiled…I couldn’t help but look her up and down. I was mesmerized. I thought about this girl for weeks until one night I was working and she was there. Her hair was a darker chocolate now, but her sun-kissed skin stood out in the dimly lit bar. Not a ton of people that know me know how shy I am in all reality. Sober, I was scared shitless. This girl was amazing. I could not literally grasp the words to explain how attracted I was to everything about her: not just her body, but her kind smile, cute laugh, penetrating eyes. She’d never go for someone like me, I thought to myself. Frequently a fan of selling myself short, I just assumed that I would flirt with her at the service bar when I’d make drinks for her customers and she’d get some other more aggressive, handsome customers phone number. I decided one night while I was pretty drunk that it was time to ask her out or move on. I’ll never forget my friend Max’s face after the awkward dance of drunk me nuzzling close, getting overly handsy (inappropriate, yes, but I could never find myself to be confident enough to talk clearly sober) and asking her out led to her saying yes. I was so ashamed of myself the next day that I couldn’t bare to make eye contact with her, and she thought that I was mad at her. (Another result of being stupid and alcohol.) We went out and on the first date after having sushi and going down to The City to have a drink I knew I wanted this woman to be in my life as much as I could.

Months passed, I loved her deeply, but I also was feeling pressure from work, the life I was living outside of her companionship that I did not like, and eventually my twisted love affair with binge drinking ended up tearing apart the relationship (the first time anyway) and I thought that I had screwed up everything that I wanted to settle down with. I got more chances and ultimately I couldn’t give away to drinking out the pain I felt from cancer and the emotional pain I felt from feeling like I was wasting away and she left me again. There isn’t any reason to feel bad for me. Looking at it from a sober, healing point of view, I could have stopped drinking at any point then to make it work; to avoid saying what I held in sober, to actually be emotionally available to her and vested in her life. To steal a Hayley Williams line, ‘I dont need no help, I can sabotage me by myself.’ p- and I did. There hasn’t been a day since last August that I don’t think that. It also made me realize that I have a lot to work on about how I view myself before I’m even remotely ready to try and build a serious, loving relationship with a soulmate. Sure, wanting to help her with her problems, pain, growth is only natural for someone you love, but it’s not fair when you’re changing who you are for someone just to be dishonest with yourself about who you really are.

When I say I still think about her daily, it’s not just her, but that inexplicable feeling when you see something and you just know. I haven’t felt like that or experienced anyone or anything that’s made me feel like that since her, that night over a year and a half ago, and I’m afraid that I fear that it won’t happen again enough to the point where I am totally satisfied in sitting in my home, alone, writing about what could have been and all the regrets I have. Knowing full well that that’s pretty goddamn stupid, it doesn’t hide the fact that at least it’s a way that I’ve evolved from drinking away all pain. There’s a brazen albeit comforting feeling about reminiscing about the past mistakes and knowing that if at any point I’d hastily act foolish sober as I have drunk, there won’t be any hiding from the fact that I won’t have to change who I am, that I’m just an asshole. I know, and I get told, that I am a good person, with a kind heart and well meant intentions, and I just need to harness that and find a way to vent the struggles and pain without becoming an intoxicated douche canoe.