r/OffMyChestPH • u/[deleted] • 6h ago
I have been in love with my best friend for more than thirty years.
In an all-girls Catholic school, a girl crush is almost a rite of passage.You either fall for one of the girls, or for one of the few male faculty members who wander the halls like rare birds.
Jing was my best friend, and the girl I had a crush on.
Jing and I were inseparable. Wherever she went, I followed. She had a genuine, restless curiosity, and a brightness to her that pulled people in without her ever trying. I was no exception. I could not escape the magnitude of her.
We were pop culture enthusiasts. Saturday and Sundays were our days. She had such a huge crush on Bobby Andrews then and so, we never missed a single episode of TGIS. Inggit na inggit siya noon kay Angelu and I would console her by telling her that if he met her first, he would definitely fall for her first. On Sundays we would watch GMA Supershow and I remember Jing asking me once kung sinong artista ba âyung type ko. Sabi ko si Mark Anthony Fernandez. I had to lie. I wasnât brave enough to tell her she was my type.
Neither of us dated in high school. When prom came, we went as each other's date, and no one batted an eye. A few of our batchmates had their boyfriends, but most of us didn't really have anyone, and so two girls arriving together meant nothing to anyone but me.
Jing asked me to dance to I Swear. Her hand was held out in front of me and it felt like God, for once, had thrown me a bone. I took it. We danced. Sabi niya ininvite niya si Bobby Andrews, but he was stuck in traffic, kaya ako na lang muna. My heart was ablaze and Jing was looking at me with such unabashed adoration, like there was nothing in the room sheâd rather look at. For the length of that song, everything I had ever wanted was resting at my fingertips.
We both sang in the school choir, and for our high school baccalaureate mass, the two of us sang Tanging Yaman together. Up on that church podium, while Christ was looking down from His cross; I knew then that what I felt for Jing was something much more sacred than a crush.Â
I didn't have a name for it then. I couldn't say I was in love with her because that would be a sin, that would be wrong. At such a tender age, I could not fathom how something that felt so good, so right, could be wrong.Â
College was a blur. We went to different schools, and some part of me hoped that whatever I felt for Jing would quietly starve without her near, that distance would do what prayer never had.
At first I thought it had worked. We were both in relationships the whole four years. And when I finally had a boyfriend, it was as though someone had lifted a stone off my chest. The guilt I'd been carrying loosened its grip at last.
I felt normal. I remember being so grateful to feel normal.
NU Rock Awards, 2008. Two years out of college, her first year in law school, her boyfriend gone a few months by then. We were outside Silvercity, hinihintay si Papa. Lasing na lasing kaming dalawa.
Jing kissed me. She told me she loved me.
And all at once I was sixteen again, standing on that podium beside her, singing.
For years I had kept what I felt for my best friend in disguise. I packaged it, and gave it names I could live with. A crush, a phase, a closeness. But standing on the other side of that kiss, there was nothing left to call it, and no reason left to keep looking.
I am in love with Jing.Â
I broke up with my boyfriend.Â
Jing stopped talking to me after.
Sabi niya busy siya sa law school. I believed her, or I let myself believe her. I gave her time. I gave her space. I gave her every excuse I could think of, and when those ran out I invented new ones. And I waited. I was good at waiting. I had been waiting since I was sixteen years old; a few months was nothing.
When we saw each other again, she introduced me to her new boyfriend. I smiled, and I put out my hand, because I am her best friend, and that is what I do.
Jing married him the year they passed the bar. When she asked me to be her maid of honor, I smiled, and I said yes, because I am her best friend, and that is what I do.
I stood beside her at the altar and held her flowers while she promised herself to someone else, and I smiled, because I am her best friend, and that is what I do.
I am her best friend. It was foolish of me to hope I would ever be her wife.
When she gave birth to her son, I stood at the head of the bed, holding her hand. Her husband stood down by her feet, waiting for the baby to come. I remember thinking, in the middle of it: this is my portion. This is the whole of what I get, and it is more than most people like me are given, and I will not ask for more.Â
Her son calls me Tita Mommy.Â
Our conversations are so much different nowadays. Hindi na kami masyadong nanonood ng TV. Most of my days go to teaching and grading my students' papers, and Jing has her hands full with my godson and the firm.Â
Sometimes she still teases me, offers to set me up with one of her respectable lawyer friends, the single ones, the ones who could give me a family. Sayang ka naman, she would say. We would laugh. And then the laughing runs out, and we look at each other, and we look away.
Because we both know why I never married.
Sometimes I let myself have the luxury of retrospect. What would my life have been, if I had never loved Jing the way I did?
I can see it when I try. A husband who is kind enough. A child I could call my own. A life that would have made sense to my parents, to the church, to God as they explained Him to me. A life I could have lived without guilt.
And every time, I walk all the way to the end of that life, and I find that I don't want it. I would take all of this, exactly as it happened, over any life that came without Jing in it.
Everyone thinks the great tragedy is loving someone who cannot love you back. But Jing did love me. She loves me still, in the way that is available to her, and I have had thirty years of it. Thirty years of being the first person she calls after a tiring day, the one who knows what she was like at eleven, the hand she reached for in a delivery room. I was not given the life I wanted. I was given a whole life anyway, and I shared it with her, and it was full.
And I will not pretend the pain was worth it, because worth it is an accounting word and this was never a transaction. The pain and the joy did not arrive separately. They were the same thing. Ang sakit ay bahagi ng pag-ibig; you cannot take one out without the other. To wish away the ache is to wish away everything in between, the prom, singing at the podium, the kiss outside Silvercity, the boy who calls me Tita Mommy. To wish away the ache is to wish away her. So I don't.
I love Jing. Which means I love the girl I was at eleven, quietly crushing on her bestfriend. I love the woman I became instead of the woman I might have been. I love my students, my godson, Jingâs husband, my quiet apartment, my Sunday mornings, the feel of the cool afternoon breeze on my face. I love my life. I love the world for having her in it and for having let me stand so close.
We were sixteen years old when we sang Tanging Yaman in front of our batchmates. I did not understand the words then. I thought it was just a song we had been given.
Only treasure. My only treasure.
I have known since I was sixteen exactly what mine is.