u/LowerSite6942

It’s my Sunday evening ritual: me, my planner, and the quiet realization that the week ahead is already fully booked… and then some. Between managing the household, looking after my parents, and being a stand-in guardian to my two nephews (who, by the way, are already in college, how did that even happen?), plus a regular job on top of it all, I sometimes wonder if I accidentally signed up for a triple role without reading the fine print.

Honestly, I have a newfound respect for solo parents and housewives. Like… how do you do it? Is there a secret handbook? A support group? A hidden “pause life” button I somehow missed?

There are five of us siblings. Three have migrated abroad, living their best lives, I assume, based on their photos 😅. That leaves me and my kuya here. His marriage hit a rough patch, and while they’re trying to figure things out, I got promoted, unexpectedly, to “pseudo-parent.” No interview, no training, just vibes.

So now, as I stare at my weekly schedule, I notice something almost poetic. I have about one to two hours every Sunday for myself. That’s it. My sacred time. Usually spent squeezing in a quick tennis game or chasing 10k steps around the village like it’s some kind of Olympic event. There’s also the occasional McDo date night, but that depends on whether my equally busy, but adorable, partner is free. So yes, romance now runs on availability and fast food.

And if I’m being honest… I’m tired.

Sometimes it feels like there’s this unspoken rule for single, unmarried people in the family. “Eh wala ka namang asawa, ikaw na bahala.” Congratulations, you’ve unlocked the “default caretaker” level of adulthood. No opt-out button.

Sorry, this turned into a bit of a rant. I guess I’m just… envious sometimes. Of people my age traveling, exploring, doing things they love, living stories that aren’t mostly about responsibilities.

Meanwhile, here I am, holding everything together, showing up, doing what needs to be done.

And I know that counts for something. It just… gets heavy sometimes.

PS:

Have you gone to the extent of having sex and during the act, all you could think of are the incoming errands, things to buy, stuff to fix, so much that you fake orgasms?

I did.

I guess I’ve always been a little unusual for being drawn to the most unassuming men.

Back in high school, I had a quiet crush on a classmate who barely spoke to anyone. Puberty had not been kind to his skin (you know, acne and stuff), and he kept to himself most of the time. Although he did well in sports, especially football, beyond that, there was little anyone could say about him. We hardly talked. In fact, the only thing I remember him asking me back then was, “May extra paper ka?” and that was it.

We graduated and went our separate ways. I went to Katipunan, while he, like most of the boys from our school, enrolled in Taft. Life moved on, as it does.

Then in January 2025, by some strange and beautiful coincidence, we crossed paths again at a high school friend’s wedding. He had always been my quiet, enduring crush, so I gathered the courage to approach him.

Me: Hi. We were classmates in grade school and high school.
Him: Oo naman, kilala kita.
Me: How come? We never spoke.
Him: Hindi mo naman ako kinakausap eh.
Me: You’ve always been my crush.

He didn’t say much after that, but somehow that moment was enough. What followed was a series of small reunions, simple get-togethers that slowly turned into something more.

For the longest time, I had already made peace with the idea that I might go through life on my own, that I would reach my thirties carrying that quiet acceptance. But years ago, when I visited Manaoag Church, I whispered a prayer. I asked to be led to the one person meant for me, the one I truly deserved.

I did not realize then that some prayers take time, that some answers arrive gently and without warning.

After all those years, mine finally did.