Love stories


The network I work for has this series called “Wagas: Mga Totoong Kuwento ng Pag-ibig”, where the love stories of network personalities and regular couples (see: “Cosplayers’ love story“) are acted out by network talents. I get to watch it because I work on weekends, it’s on the weekend lineup, and one of the office TVs is on my 10 o’clock when I am at my desk.

Here is an episode that they did on our former editor-in-chief and his wife:


It’s a little cheesy — even the title, Filipino for pure and faithful, is a little cheesy and old-timey — but maybe that’s the whole point of the show, that love is a little cheesy and that sometimes it works out. I mean, the people featured on the show are people who have gone through life together and have done at least a good enough job at it to share their story on TV.

Their stories could just as easily have been part of a show on broken relationships called “Waley”, which, of course, doesn’t exist.

My parents, as rocky as their married life was at times, had the same kind of story. An excerpt from an e-mail I wrote about them years ago:


Theirs was never a perfect marriage. My dad, when in a rage, could and often would say things that would make a sailor blush, and then walk out the door so the married couple could argue in private. Towards the end of their marriage–ended by my father’s death in 2009–they hardly ever talked, except at breakfast. They were good talks, though, unless when politics got involved and I often felt that I was intruding on them when I lingered at the breakfast table.

After the funeral, my mother said she would not have married anyone else even knowing how much of a challenge being with my father was.


I want to some day be able to sit on a couch with my wife, look back on life, and tell that sort of story — our story — either to a TV crew or to our children, or, if I get to be that old, to half-remembered ghosts of long-dead friends.

It’s useless sentimentality, probably brought by the rainy season and at the thought of turning 33 this year, but I sometimes wish we could all just fast-forward to the happy endings, or at least the not-as-anxious rising action. But we can’t and that’s the point of it.

I like to say that life is struggle as a joke, but also as a reminder that, yes, it actually is, and there is not a lot that will change that. Sometimes, it’s easier, and sometimes it will kick your ass. And sometimes, if you work at it and you luck out, you can look back at the years you’ve had together and say, well, that was pretty wagas.


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