It is my husband Jay's birthday today.
A lot of our high school friends know this already, but Jay and I met in high school in 1999 (click this link to read it if you want to know our back story). That means we’ve known each other for 25 years. That’s a long time but would you believe it, I still cannot tell you what he’s thinking right at this moment.
That’s because we are polar opposites. If I’m an oversharer, then he’s a none-at-all sharer. In high school, they dubbed me a “megaphone” in freshman year because I didn’t need a mic to say what needed to be said for classroom events. Meanwhile, he was the mysterious guy with to-die-for eyes and lashes, silently playing the guitar at the back of the classroom.
We were both students in the cream/star section, but lower year levels knew of us being “together” and wanted the tea when they found out we had broken up by senior year a year into our relationship.
Fast forward to now, seven years married, nary a sign of the so-called “seven-year itch.” What we do have are tons of dirty diapers, laundry, and dishes, sweeping dust at dawn, and random grocery runs at midnight. Our date nights are family ones—dinners out with activities for Ate A to lessen screen time, or watching House of the Dragon, MasterChef, Survivor, and The Amazing Race when the kids are asleep. We are tag-team parents who I wish would make Hunter Hearst Helmsley (HHH) and X-Pac proud.
My husband is the man who vowed in high school to marry me. I remember that moment clear as crystal. I read his text message just before the stoplight on East Avenue turned green so we can turn left to Edsa, he said he would only stop pursuing me when we were already married. And here we are now in 2024 with two children to boot! Bonus points for STILL pursuing me seven years on. :D
I can tell you how hard it is to love a man like Jay, whose love language is acts of service while mine is words of affirmation. I literally go crazy (I have hospital bills to prove them) because I cannot, for the life of me, get him to talk like normal people do. I ask him one question and he queries five back, and even then I may or may not get my answer.
Oh but when he talks, does he make me fall in love with him all over again. That weak-in-the-knees, drop-in-the-stomach attraction, because he lets me in his mind, how he uses his hands in excitement to demonstrate what he’s talking about, or while he’s being vulnerable and opens up to me about something overwhelming. Or when he talks to me about a funny thing, our treasure trove of inside jokes and stories we always come back to for a laugh. And do not get me started on his love letter-writing skills!
But he makes me love him most when he cares for us, when he does the laundry with precision hanging skills, when he cooks and experiments in the kitchen, when he teaches our eldest to draw, and when he wakes up at night to feed and change our youngest.
I love him most when we perform our duty together, when we sit beside each other in the choir, a high school dream I had. I love him most when he fixes our hymnals so I won’t have to, when we both study the hymns and take our singing seriously because mediocrity just doesn’t cut it.
I love him most when we pray together. When his words echo in my heart as we surrender everything to God, and continue to promise never to let go of our divine election. When we ask for guidance and ensure our children grow up actively serving Him and Jesus even after we are gone.
I loved him most when he did not give up on me, when tears fell from his eyes over a decade ago while he explained how he almost did, but my mother’s words echoed within him, “Kung kayo talaga para sa isa’t isa, kayo talaga.” (If you’re meant to be together, you will be.”)
I loved him most when, while I was at one of my hospital stays, he took over managing my failing hotdog stand, a dream I had that sadly became a horror story/learning experience, and eventually closing it up himself.
I loved him most when he helped me walk away from betrayed relationships and quietly severed ties with the people involved as well.
I loved him most when he juggled work and finding help to care for our eldest and our newborn. All this as I again had to go to the hospital, while his own strength teetered on the edge, what with us being abroad and his family still nowhere near their flight to come here to Saudi Arabia.
A few weeks ago I told a friend a good partner in life is truly a blessing. It’s the type of thing you pray hardest for when you’re in a relationship, if you’re the praying type. If not, then I hope you do your due diligence because, words are dime-a-dozen in the wild jungle of dating out there, but a husband/wife, is a rare find. At least for me.
So happiest birthday to my man, to our rock, our chocolate lover, our NBA Fantasy champion. We love you, Daddy Jay!
