I have come to realize that my parents must see my love life, having kissed dating goodbye (for the moment, at least) and having been emotionally celibate for the last three years, as being dangerously on the verge of desperation and require desperate measures. One morning, as I was fixing my computer which had acquired an infection during my absence, my father bluntly, as was his usual way, told me to get dressed as I was meeting someone - a certain girl. He had actually told me this before but I was rather skeptical about the idea. Generally, I dislike this sort of premeditated meetings, especially when everyone expects something to come out of it, simply because nothing does comes out of it.

Muttering a little objection, I left my computer alone untreated and tried to get dressed, all the while evading my mother who was curiously digging into our cabinet, apparently trying to find me some suitable clothing (What the heck?). Having intended to travel light, I have left all my pants (three of them in all) at the boardinghouse in Cebu; my brother's were simply not my size. I had no choice but to wear, and much to my parents' disapproval, a khaki short and a white shirt that was a tad too large, and a very dusty pair of sandals. I laughed to myself satisfactorily as we drove to our destination.

Honestly, I was curious as to what this 'girl' was like. After Stella and I decided to part ways years ago (well, it was mostly her decision), I had tried dating but I seem to have developed the unhealthy propensity of trying to find Stella in everyone of my dates (such futile things as mannerisms, choice of words, choice of food, even choice of shoes) and thus ultimately leading to my failure. Eventually, I gave up dating altogether partly because dating is beginning to hurt my pocket and partly because it was ineffective. And so for the last three years, I (having gotten over the 'Stella syndome') sat and waited and waited and waited. And so I ask myself, after all those years of sitting and waiting, could she be the one?

Somehow, I think I know the answer.

Our journey took us in front of this abandoned-looking lot with an abandoned-looking building. As we walked through the door of this plainly-painted rectangle block of cement (which has an emission-testing center painted in plain view), we were greeted by a man whom my father knew, and who was obviously the owner of the establishment and, quite unexpectedly, the girl's father. I was shortly introduced to her. She was sitting at a long table, looking rather unconcerned, trying to simultaneously thumb in text messages on three cellphones which she was shuffling like cards in her hands. I was so impressed by her odd display of dexterity that I was afraid of shaking her hands in fear of being shuffled myself.

I took a seat opposite her and, between intervals of her texting which was making me rather dizzy, talked about the state of our professions. Well, it was a conversation you would normally expect out of pre-arranged meetings - deliberate and contrived. However, she was nice to me. I had expected her to be arrogant and self-involved, like most well-to-do kids are. However, she was cordial and formal, so much so that it felt like a job interview. Oh yes, she is a nurse too, and we seem to be caught in the same pig's hole of the June 2006 controversy. Ah, already so much in common. Before I departed, she had offered to give me some study materials for an examination I was planning to take the next year, one which she has already taken (oh, damn it). She even asked for my number. Well, actually no - her father did.

As I walked out of the establishment and into the searing heat of noon, I found that my father had left hurriedly, and unannounced, without me. Feeling rather dejected and suddenly hungry, I trudged towards Butuan's only mall. At the same time, I thought about the conversation that had just taken place a few minutes before, the trifle details, I do that sometimes. I realized that I should have perhaps tried to ask her number, but something stopped me. And what was it all for? I tossed it out of my head eventually. I sighed and shrugged, like a someone losing a piso in a betting game. The girl with a kind smile, large expressive eyes, and skillful set of digits - well, she is, in every sense, a royalty. And I...

I am but a pauper.