The Man Of My Teenage Dreams

By jessnutsss

Lucky in love I was definitely not. In fact, I would say that it's actually quite the opposite. Singlehood is all I've ever known, thanks to my parent's "No boyfriend until you're 18" rule that I oh so obediently followed. Enrolling me to an all-girl's school since Kindergarten most definitely did not help either. It was as if they wanted to make sure that I didn't have any contact with boys throughout my education. They had their reasons, presumably, and I hope it had nothing to do with me chasing a boy named Robbie whom I unfortunately called my boyfriend (much to his dismay and annoyance) when I was four. Apart from that incident with Robbie, I have no experience with them whatsoever.

I guess that's why I'm weird when it comes to dealing with the opposite sex. When I come face to face with the male specie, I do either of the three: One, clam up and be all shy around them. Two, become reserved and intimidating, thus giving the impression that I'm a man hater. Or three, be all girly girl with them and talk too much. As in way to much.

But of course I'm not a total prude. On the rare instance that I am comfortable with them, I might even go as far as calling them friends. In the stage that is called High School, it was had not to interact with the boys what with all the soirees and parties? Sure I've had crushes. Lots of them, if I say so myself. The thing is, is that I've never been in love, although at that time it must've felt like I was.

I always fell for the wrong guy. I had a certain type though (as my mother would say). I was inclined to fall for the pretty boy. The popular one usually considered as the most handsome in the lot. In other words, he was completely unattainable for creatures like me who wasn't blessed with a skinny body and clear skin. I, the lowly Jessica Molina of medium-length raven hair and size 14 body, am far too plain to ever be noticed. If I were to make a chart to show my relationship with boys, it would most probably look like this:

Crushes so far: Too many to count

Number of guys who showed a tiny bit of interest in me: 1

Number of guys who followed through with their interest in me: 0

Number of times I waited for a guy to text or call: Too embarrassing to tell

Number of times I prayed to God for a boy to love me: Every. Single. Day.

Number of times God granted my prayer: Zero

I can enumerate the guys that I liked but it would be too sad to go down that memory lane. It was usually the same story: guy I like has a girlfriend, was about to have a girlfriend, liked my much prettier friends – and this is the most painful reason so far – they only see me as a friend, or worse, as a little sister.

But still I haven't given up on the male population. Deep inside I still believed there was someone out there for me but it didn't help that I have high-standards. Not the, must beat Edward Cullen kind of standards, just something slightly picky. Back in my hometown, I was specific about the boys that catch my eye. Must be fluent in English. Must be athletic. Must be religious. Must get along with my family. I had so many "musts" in my list that my subconscious told me I should just put "Must be perfect" or "Must be a Disney prince" instead.

But that was before. I'm a changed woman now and I wasn't as immature as I was before. Actually, I'm all about fresh beginnings now. Moving to a new country and turning eighteen can make a person contemplate on a lot of things. I decided then and there that I was going to change. My mind wasn't going to be consumed with boys anymore. Yes, I told myself, this time all focus will be on me.

Except, I couldn't quite resist. It was my first time to live in a county where everywhere I looked, I saw a hottie. Heck, I even lived across a house full of University guys. I mean hot university guys. I've been looking at them from afar, not that I'm a stalker or anything. So far only one guy has been nice to me. He was pretty cute, and whenever we saw each other Which was exactly two times. Once when he was going to his car, and the other time was when we saw each other in the store. I was outside watching over my little brother while he was on his way inside. I flashed him a big smile and before I could even stop myself, said "Hey". He just smiled and went inside. When he went out, again, he had the same smile. I smiled back. Hopefully he doesn't think I'm a washed out single mom (even though sometimes I do feel like a washed out single mom. And he's not even my child!).

Except for that particular flirting – if it's even considered as flirting – I've been pretty true to my word. My days were filled with chores and such, as well as the fact that I have entered a completely different time zone and season so my body was still adjusting, so that didn't leave me with much time to think about boys. Overall life in this strange new place is good.

But alas, today it seemed as though my goodluck streak has ended.

I woke up later than expected, my head pounding loudly. It didn't matter, though, because at lunch time, we were going to a small gathering and I get to see my friends. I mean seriously, I'm hauled up inside the whole day with no one to talk to (no, 2 year old babies and 40 something moms do not count). Needless to say, I was excited and glad to finally relate with someone close to my age. It was to be held at the conference hall in the Cathedral, a good 15 minute walk from our place. We were tasked to provide and so we bought 9 large bottles of different sodas. I wasn't looking forward to walk for 15 minutes holding those bottles but at that point, I was ready to do anything just to get out.

I hurriedly showered and did all the rituals I usually do when I take a bath. Seeing as my family didn't really move as fast as I do, I had plenty of time to decide on an outfit. I only had a handful of clothes because I was too afraid of paying a huge fine for over baggage in the airport and so I tossed out most of my clothes and just kept the ones I thought I could use. Thank god dad has lots of clothes. I decided to rock the "boyfriend polo" –except he isn't my boyfriend but my dad so I guess it should be called the "dad polo" then? Whatever.

After three outfit changes, I finally decided on an outfit: a plaid polo, black jeans (supposedly skinny cut but they're too big on me!) and flip-flops, although I probably shouldn't have worn flip-flops because my feet were freezing. So anyway, I checked on the clock in the microwave and found out we were going to be late. We panicked, hurried, and quickly got out. Not even a single step outside and already our misfortune started.

The rain poured. Hard.

By the time we got to the bus stop, it turned out dad got the scheduled all wrong and that the next bus was an hour away. Great. An hour in the freaking rain. What a way to start the day. So we decided to go the nearest resting place and bus stop. With no other choice, we began to walk. A ten minute walk under the rain with nine bottles of softdrinks, a fussy two year old, and a big stroller.

Just fantastic.

When we finally got to the bus stop (it had a roof, thank God!), the rain stopped pouring and the sun was shining so brightly. We waited for the bus but it was scheduled for another thirty minutes so we stayed put and dried ourselves off. After a couple of minutes of staying there, my parents figured it would be better if we would just walk instead of wait for the bus. And so we did, bottles of soda and all.

Being the clumsy, flat-footed girl that I am (something I'm blaming my dad for. It's his gene!), my feet hurt every now and then. I told my family to stop and wait for me a couple of times and I even resorted to repeating "I am super girl. I am super girl. I can do this" over and over again. Finally we saw the familiar building that is the Cathedral. We even passed by the short cut just to get there more quickly.

I thought my bad luck was finally over.

No, not quite.

Dad got the address wrong. It was in another Cathedral on another side of town. It was almost one in the afternoon then and we were hungry, tired, and arms aching because of all the heavy carrying. Going to the nearest bus stop, we decided to just go home first and then go to town to get some lunch.

"Lunch is on me!" dad said enthusiastically as he saw our long faces.

"It better be! It's your fault!" mom deadpanned.

We headed to town, ate, and rushed to the mall. I was disappointed that I didn't get to see my friends and so I wanted something to cheer myself up. Somehow buying shoes didn't do the trick. It was like something was missing. Something lacking. Something I couldn't quite put a finger on. I must be getting old, I thought. I wasn't looking for material things to fill the void anymore. Maybe it comes with age.

"Are we going home?" I asked my mom as we walked towards the nearest bus station.

"We're going to Church." Dad said, overhearing us.

"We're going back to the Cathedral?"

"No, a different one."

Oh well. I thought my day couldn't get any better anymore so I just resigned myself to a day of disappointment. Imagine my surprise when my day took a full 360 degree turn at around four-fifty in the afternoon.

We went inside the Church silently, and as I was going to my sea I noticed this really cute little girl about three or four years old with blonde hair and the bluest of eyes. She was holding a guys hand and I assumed it was her dad so I looked at him. Except he wasn't her dad. He looked about my age, even.

He just took my breath away.

I spent most of my time writing, imagining and creating a new fiction character that I hope would someday be famous like Mr. Darcy. I mostly had the typical blonde haired and blue-eyed hero. I don't know why, but I guess I'm just fascinated with it all. Probably because I was Asian and I was so used to seeing raven-haired people all the time that I craved variety. So anyway, there he was, Mr. Blonde hair and blue eyes himself.

Except.. he wasn't just a fiction character anymore. was wearing denim shorts, a green hoodie, and green slippers. His skin clear and his blue eyes piercing and gorgeous. His hair a shade of blonde like Zac Efron's (and I'm not even kidding!). This time I wasn't typing all about him anymore. I wasn't describing him to my readers. He is real now. In the flesh.

So anyway, I quietly went to my seat beside mom and then noticed dad took a seat beside him.

Jess (speaking in Filipino in a really quiet voice as not to destroy the solemnity): Mom, tignan mo yung katabi ni dad. Ang gwapo!

Translation: Mom, look at the guy beside dad. He's so handsome!

Mom (looks discreetely at him): Oo nga.

Translation: Oh yeah.

Jess (imagine a flashbulb in my head): Dapat magpalit kami ni dad para makatabi kami.

Translation: I should exchange seats with dad so we could sit together!

Mom (just whispering and mouthing the words to dad who was in another isle): Dad, ang gwapo ng katabi mo. Palit kayo ni Jess para magkatabi sila.

Translation: Dad, the guy beside you is really handsome. Exchange seats with Jess so they can sit together!

Dad (making a face and kinda hesitant but he stood up wordlessly and walked over to where I was): Oh, ayan na.

Translation: There you go.

Of course I was shy. I was like, "No mom, I'm shyyyy." but my mom was persistent and so, being the obedient daughter that I am, I got up and sat beside him. So there I was, seated beside Mr. Hottie already. I was shy so I didn't sit properly and I was kind of facing my mom's direction. Dad was just laughing at me while looking annoyed at the same time. Mom told me to sit properly and to move closer so I did. After that, I noticed the guy move away and sit beside his mum at the other end. Mom said something like "How rude" and then went out because my two-year old brother woke up and was causing too much noise.

I was bummed. What did I do wrong, I thought. Didn't he want to sit beside me? It was over before it even started. Dejected, I slumped back in my seat and avoided looking at the guy.

So the mass was starting and I noticed his little sister looking at me so I smiled. She smiled back and gave me a little wave. Of course I waved back. She was just the cutest thing! She kept on looking at me and she was smiling all throughout (I earned his sister's approval. HAH) and I noticed dad sit at the other chair beside me. Focus, Jess. I said. I listened attentively to the mass at that point, pushing all my Mr. Hottie thoughts at the back of my head.

As the homily started, though, I was surprised to see Mr. Hottie's mum and then him rush out, panic in their faces. Their dad followed soon and then the little sister. Turns out there was an old man who fell outside and they helped him get up. They were there for a couple of minutes and then the little sister went inside and he followed, their parents still helping the elderly man outside.

He sat beside me again and I just died. So there I was, sitting beside The Man Of My Teenage Dreams and couldn't help but smile. Throughout the mass I was aware of his presence. I could even feel him breathing. In between elbowing my dad who was slowly falling asleep, I was melting on the inside. Then the best part happened.

It was the kiss of peace, the "peace be with you" part and I was desperately hoping he would say "peace be with you" to me. Nervous and anxious, I went to my brother's side and kissed him, then this Indian man grabbed my hand and shook it. So it was how peace be with you was done here, I thought. Shaking hands. When I got to my seat, The Man Of My Teenage Dreams was facing my way and holding out a hand.

OH MY GOD, I thought. I wanted to say "I DO. I DOOOO!" so badly. *cue wedding belles here*

Instead, I grabbed his hand and shook it but I couldn't think straight. I don't even remember if I said "peace be with you" but I know I flashed him the sweetest smile I have ever flashed to anyone. But wait.. there's more! I also shook hands with his mom (I think his family likes me already. HAHAHAHA) and then HE shook hands with my dad (He was asking his permission to ask my hand for marriage.). And then I kissed my dad on the cheek and he asked me if he shook my hand.

"Yes, father. He asked for my hand indeed"

HAH. No, I didn't say that. I just said yes and smiled with what I presume was a big smile. I couldn't stop smiling. I just couldn't. When I glanced at him, I saw him hugging his little sister again. Actually, they were pretty sweet. She was always hugging him or holding his hand and sitting on his lap (He's gonna be such a great dad to our kids. I just know it.) and it was really cute! He's religious too. I heard him sing (out of tune) to the Church songs and he participated actively during the mass. Did I tell you he's the man of my teenage dreams?

After mass, I didn't get a chance to get his name or even say goodbye but his little sister smiled at me and waved again. I looked back, hoping he was watching me leave and regretting not asking my name but he wasn't.

So we met up with my mom outside and then dad got the stroller. We were walking home now and to go home we passed by this really amazing lake and fed the ducks. Mom and I were talking, and I told her about the holding hands moment with The Man Of My Teenage Dreams (Yes, I just have to emphasize that) and she suddenly said

"So the guy is really handsome, aye? When we were outside and they were helping the elderly man, he smiled at me."

I was seething. "He smiled at YOU? He smiled at you and you didn't take a picture? Ask his name? Do something relevant?" was my reaction (or rather, over-reaction).

And that's how I met The Man Of My Teenage Dreams. I just wish I would see him again. Now if only I can convince dad that we hear mass there every week instead..

To: The Man Of My Teenage Dreams

From: The Girl Of Your Dreams (Hopefully!)

All of my life
Where have you been
I wonder if I'll ever see you again
And if that day comes
I know we could win
I wonder if I'll ever see you again

-Again, Lenny Kravitz

This song never gets old. Tomorrow marks the first week since I saw The Man Of My Teenage Dreams. Deep inside I have this feeling I would never see him again. I prayed to God he would say "peace be with you" to me, instead he gave me a handshake. It's so much more than I asked for, and I know that's already enough for me. It's just fun to hold on to something silly like this - as long as I don't get my hopes up.

To Mr. Dreamguy, I just wish I could see you again. Maybe then I'd have the guts to talk to you (with my whole family's blessing! Even grandma told me to approach him. HAH). In the meantime, I'll just enjoy the search. The waiting, the anticipation. The hope that I could find you someday. I don't love you just yet, but maybe someday (and I hope it's sooner than later!) I could 3


A/N: Hello dear readers! Wow. It's my first one-shot ever and I wanted it to have a "blog" theme/tone to it. What did you think? This is something I wrote to cure my severe case of Writer's Block for WTACA and yes, it's based on true events. Tomorrow really marks the first week since I met him. If only I could see him again.. So please kindly let me know what you thought about this. It would make me just so happy 3 Here's to the waiting and anticipating, folks! Cheers!