Ah, San Pablo City, Laguna — the land of lakes, cool breezes, and apparently, the birthplace of my most misguided youthful love. Her I go again and back then, I believed I had just found “the one.” She was the sun to my rainy season, the pancit to my birthday celebration, the jeepney driver to my daily commute of teenage dreams. But as I look back now, I realize that what I thought was love was really just youthful desires wearing a pretty disguise.
It all started on a sunny day in San Pablo, when I saw her sitting by the lake, feeding the fish with a look of pure innocence — or so I thought. I must have been about sixteen, armed with nothing but a crush and a heart full of romantic clichés I picked up from cheesy Filipino soap operas. I approached her, trying to look cool, which in my case, meant tripping over my own feet and accidentally splashing her with a splash of lake water. Smooth, right?
Our conversations were a mix of giggles, awkward silences, and my desperate attempts to impress her with stories of my “future plans” — which mostly involved becoming a famous jeepney driver or a sampaguita vendor (yes, I was that ambitious). I thought I was in love, but looking back, I was just tangled in youthful desires: the desire to be loved, the desire to be seen as someone special, and the desire to impress her with my “deep” thoughts.
Life, however, had other plans. As days turned into weeks, I found myself caught up in the whirlwind of adolescence — school, friends, and the latest craze of collecting colorful jeepney stickers. My love story was interrupted by the inevitable: exams, family visits to the Pagsanjan Falls, and the sobering realization that my love was as fleeting as the last halo-halo on a hot day.
One day, I finally gathered enough courage to confess my feelings. I rehearsed in front of the mirror, practiced my “romantic” speech, and even prepared a bouquet of sampaguita flowers (which I thought was romantic, until I realized I had no idea where to buy them). When I finally told her, she giggled and said, “You’re so funny!” That’s when I realized — it wasn’t love. It was youthful curiosity, fueled by the desire to be loved and the thrill of doing something daring.
Now, many years later, I laugh at all my youthful folly. San Pablo, with its serene lakes and cool breeze, was the backdrop of another love once again – is this a real lesson in love or perhaps, in desire. Life’s turns kept me busy, and love’s illusions faded away, revealing the truth: what I thought was love was just a fleeting spark of youthful desire, flickering brightly but quickly gone.
In the end, I thank San Pablo for the memories — and for teaching me that sometimes, what feels like love is just a beautiful, hilarious chapter in the story of growing up. And who knows? Maybe someday, I’ll find again another love that’s more than just desire, by the lakeside or the beach once more — this time, with a little more wisdom and a lot more laughter.
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