"I need your help."
Those four words usually get me in trouble - at least according to Philip, my childhood best friend. I pull my hair at its ends and wonder what on earth I was thinking to get myself in this arrangement.
But here we are.
My friends wouldn't have been surprised that I found myself in this situation after I've been told these four words.
But here we are.
"I need your help."
Anna Cortez walked into the restaurant, looking better than I remember her to be. I met Anna a few years back in Brussels. She is related to Philip and when she was sent to Europe for work, her protective cousin told Anna to contact me in case of emergency since they had no other relatives based in the continent.
I agreed, of course, and even extended the invite to give her a tour of Brussels and other nearby major European cities, like Paris, Amsterdam and Luxembourg.
During that time, we mostly communicated via short messages, since she was based in a city about an hour away from where I lived, and because my job for a global manufacturing firm entailed regular travel across the continent.
Being a few years younger than I was, she was the one who was more into the whole exchange of texts situation, but I did continue the conversations because - one, she was the cousin of my friend and I felt like I had to be polite; and two, her messages were cute and they did give me a refreshing break from the daily grind at work.
When we finally met, I found her cute but quite naive, this being her first time living abroad. In contrast, I've been away from home right after college.
Eventually, she moved back to Manila and we would meet a few times over the years but most of those were uneventful.
We lost touch. I vaguely recall her getting mad at me for something I did, but it escapes me right now what. All I remember is that she found it very rude, told me off and barely spoke to me since.
So, imagine my surprise when she asked to see me during one of my visits back to the Philippines and drops this huge bombshell on me.
"Marry me."
