The descriptions were too uncanny to go unnoticed. After an hour on the phone, we had stumbled on a strangely familiar topic. This guy he once went out with reminded me of him. Same car, same description, same background, same extraordinary (and apparently, memorable) gestures. Yet, while I was memorable to him, he barely registered a blip on my radar.
"Maybe you've met so many guys," he said. Maybe I had.
He said he tried, but there was no connection. We had gone out several times. "Two or three times," he said. Not registering. Maybe if I saw him again. I was getting frustrated.
"He gave me pastries," he said, "and a box of Nestle Cream. I had told him that my mom had gone to the stores and they had run out because it was the Christmas season. He got some for me. Who could forget that?" The gesture was vaguely familiar. The words registered in my head. That does sound like something I would do. But I don't recall who I did it for.
"He drove me home." When he almost accurately described my car, I almost certainly knew that it was me sitting behind the steering wheel. But then, I don't remember picking him up in Ortigas. I was not a fan of Ortigas back then, its streets proving to be more than enough challenge for my then fledgling sense of direction. I don't remember ever bringing somebody home to his village in Paranaque. I would've remembered. I kept thinking about the routes I would've taken to try and joggle my sleeping memories. I came up with nothing.
We hung up without a promise to keep in touch. It was getting awkward. If it didn't work then, despite my being memorable, it wouldn't work now. Besides, I would've remembered him if he was really something. My memory may be failing me lately, but that is not something that I think I'd forget.
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