ALTHOUGH not very seriously, I have considered changing my name through the years.
I have fantasized what name I would assume.
I know I don’t want to drop Peter, but I want a capital letter J (for Jesus) before it—J Peter.
But in the last ten years, my triple name Peter Solis Nery has gained so much traction that I decided against amending my name when an actual opportunity came in November 2019.
People have started calling me PSN or The PSN, which they said is a sign that “I have arrived” (meaning, I have finally made it).
So yeah, I guess I’m stuck with Peter Solis Nery for a while.
And for those wondering, I took on my maternal Solis name as early as Grade 3.
So I’ve been PSN for almost five decades now.
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I have never had to make a public apology.
But I am always thinking ten steps ahead of everybody.
So I may have made public apologies for various inappropriateness, and perceived ingratitude.
Nothing criminal, or biblically sinful.
I honestly try to live a righteous life, even if a little scandalous for the conservative lot.
And I would have no big problem making genuine public apologies.
Except that I hate being told what to do.
So, if I’m required to make a public apology, I may be a little resistant if I don’t see the reason for, or the merit of, it.
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I have played matchmaker many times in my life.
And I can boast of some success stories, too.
But when I was just in high school, I did set up a girl with a boy, who was friendly with me.
(I was in denial then, but I was crushing on this boy very hard.)
It was one of those three-day regional conventions of youth leaders.
I was roomed in with the boy, and he was very nice to me.
I knew the girl from a previous campus journalism conference.
We all came from different provinces.
The boy liked the girl, and when he saw that she was chummy with me, he asked if I could set up a date for them.
I talked to the girl, who also had a crush on this boy.
They ultimately became official, but that relationship didn’t survive the long distance in the 1980s.
I’m still friends with both.
Another instance of my matchmaking happened in Boracay in the early 2000s.
Friends set me up with this “potentially available” guy (who didn’t come out as bisexual until 2015).
I liked him, and he seemed to like me, too.
But we were both too shy, or too proud, to fuck on first meeting, so that was that.
Anyway, we met the girl in the bar.
They started talking, but I ended up sleeping with the guy.
I mean, we shared the queen bed (after all, we were set up by friends “to fuck” in the then-other-worldly Boracay).
We shared the blanket, and some body warmth, but no bodily fluids.
He kissed me in the morning, so I went weak, and heroic, and I searched the whole island to find the girl.
We had no idea where the girl was staying, but I was optimistic to match “a love forged by destiny.”
What do you know?
I found the girl in less than two hours based entirely on my hunches.
They ended up getting married abroad, and divorcing after six or seven years.
I never talked to the girl again after they got married.
He talked to me, and dropped hints, after their divorce.
I said No. (500tinaga@gmail.com/PN)
