The Big C

It ain't Cancer, you moron. It's Commitment.

Is it just me or is commitment such a scary word? (See, even my keyboards agree as I typed that! I just got the nastiest static electrocution ever since I came back from Vegas...)

OK. OK. It ain't as if it's such a horrendous thing that sends shivers up people's spines just by the mere mention of the word...it's just that these days, commitment seems to be, well, shady. These days, it's either you're a commitment-phobic or a commitment-manic freak...and either way, it's not looking too good.

I was recently told that I was "too nice", "too good to be true", that I was "too sweet, it's getting nauseating" (yes, folks. Somebody slap whoever told me that...before I beat you to it)...and only because I wasn't the commitment-phobic type. I mean, come on. I'm not getting any fuckin' younger. So, what's wrong with wanting to finally commit to someone?

Funny how in the somehow distant past, I've been totally freaked out at the idea of being "tied" to someone, that a relationship was your life sentence, and not to mention a sure way of admitting to yourself that you'll be having sex with the same person for the rest of your life. Bummer. And now, I'm Mr. Commitment. How freaky is that?

So, there are people like me: the I-gotta-have-you-I’m-not-getting-any-younger commitment freaks. And then there are the meatheads who just don’t do commitment…ever.

My previous business colleague and good friend Vicki dated a fellow Ateneo alumni a couple of months ago. She has never had a boyfriend since she broke up with her boyfriend of ten years, Hans, who is now in Switzerland pursuing his MBA. She would date occasionally but found nothing special with these dates (or at least nothing like what she and Hans had)…until Mitch came in the picture. Mitch was a blind date, set up almost unplanned by our friend Rhett. He was a Pre-Divinity major for some time until he realized that he did not want to become a priest, and thus shifted to Economics. And although—as they discovered later—they were classmates in college on some Management subjects, it was only when Rhett set them up that they were able to take notice of each other.

After barely three weeks of dating, Vicki introduced him to our group. This was something. She never introduces a date to us unless he’s got to be something special. So when we finally decided to meet up—‘twas in a restaurant in Rockwell; Vicki, Mitch, his friends Martin and Rose, me, my friends Rhett, Raymond, Jason, Mike, and their boyfriends/girlfriends Ethan, Alfred, Mia, and Joseph—the brouhaha was killing us all. And as if my queer friends’ occasional (and dare I say dopey) blurting out of their “How far have you gone, guys?” question wasn’t enough, they were bombarded with questions like “What’s your anniversary date?”, “Is he a good kisser?”, or “Dammit, do we hear wedding bells, then?” Only for us to be disappointed by being told that they are just dating, still getting to know each other, and “taking things slow”. Yeah right…or at least, that was what everyone else said. But we let them be.

And after more than three months of “just dating” and “taking things slow”, I finally pulled Vicki by her hair and extorted the truth from her. What she told me paralyzed me from the neck up. She and Mitch were still in that phase. And, what’s worse, she was so ready for a commitment…but Mitch wasn’t. This, she found out when, in their most recent conversation, she asked him where their dating was going to lead to…or if 'twas even going somewhere. In fairness to Vicki, she’s been everything but a nag in terms of going steady or exclusively dating. But three months was just such a long time to “just” date. At least that’s what I think, too.

So in their last where-is-this-leading-to talk, Mitch said those classic “I just want to be sure”, “I’m not sure if I’m ready”, “I still want to get to know you more”, and “Let’s take things slow” lines. With those lines recounted to me by Vicki over a Tall Chai Latte in Greenbelt, I slammed a paperback copy of “He’s Just Not That Into You” on her lap and told her to stop and smell the not-so-sweet-smelling, almost-wilting flowers: Mitch was not THAT into her as she was into him.

And, oh, here’s the killer: as they were having that talk, Mitch kept referring to commitment as “the ‘C’ Word”. What C? Coward? Cad? Craven? Childish? Chicken? Crazy. That’s what I say it is.

Commitment. What’s so scary about it? Fine. People like me are bizarre in wanting commitment so soon. But we’re just seizing the moment…living in the now. After all, getting to know the man or woman of your dreams can be done when you’re both already in the relationship. It’s not like there’s an irrevocable contract you have to sign prior to committing, that you can’t part with when you realize somewhere in the middle that you aren’t meant for each other. For crying out loud, even science says that you can never be too certain of something until you keep experimenting, making mistakes, learning, and unlearning from the experiences.

Now, are you saying that we more of a freak for wanting to be with someone, giving ourselves to him/her, and committing to a (hopefully) lasting relationship, that is, compared to those who are mortified of the idea of spending the rest of their lives with someone other than their lonely selves?

Ah. No-brainer question, ain’t it?