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The calamari was just as I remembered—juicy and absolutely divine. But what I failed to remember after all these years was not to eat it on an empty stomach.

My stomach started to act up just as the rain got heavier outside. The rain brought with it some fierce wind that could even be heard over the live band's acoustic take on Goo Goo Dolls' "Iris."

Our houses were still far from the Tomas Morato area. Way too far. I wanted to wait out the rain at the bar but my stomach was getting more and more upset by the minute. I didn't want to tell Logan about it because I figured that we were still too early in the dating game to be "that" comfortable with each other. I kept it to myself and willed for the rain to stop so we could drive home already.

But Mother Nature was pretty bitchy that day. Instead of stopping, the wind blew harder; so hard that most people outside took refuge inside the resto bar. It was getting more crowded by the minute. When Logan asked me if I wanted to stay somewhere else to wait out the rain, I simply nodded and refused to dwell on whether he thought I was easy. Not when I'm about to have LBM in a cocktail dress! I screamed in my head. Saka ko na iisipin 'yan. This is an emergency!

Logan drove carefully into the heavy rain and soon we found a place where we could spend the stormy night. Throughout the drive, he kept asking me over and over if it was okay with me that we stay in. I kept nodding my head and didn't say much because I was using most of my energy into willing my impending LBM to wait for a few more minutes.

I wanted to act cool and composed but as soon as we entered the room, I ran to the bathroom and spent the next fifteen minutes inside.

When my stomach mellowed down, I opened the bathroom door just wide enough for me to sneak a peek and slide out. Logan was on the bed watching the news. I was about to threaten him not to go in there but when he saw me, in my red cocktail dress, he burst out laughing. And I did too.

It was past 3 o'clock in the morning when we both decided to lay in bed side by side. Our shoes were scattered somewhere on the floor and the television was muted. We stared at the ceiling and listened to the wind howl outside.

It felt awkward. We were in a place where we could do anything. While he hadn't said anything about how I looked that night in my red cocktail dress, Logan looked so damn sexy in a simple long sleeved polo and a pair of black pants.

He could have kissed me.

But he didn't.

He didn't even hold my hand.

We just lay there side by side and stared at the ceiling.

In the stillness of the moment, my mind drifted back to the time I first met Logan in the flesh and what had happened since: how many of my friends he had met; how many of his friends I'd shared conversations with; how many hours we spent talking online and over the phone; how many after-work dinners and Dairy Queen ice cream we shared; and the many reasons that could have made us decide to be a couple...and yet, we still hadn't talked about it. Ever.

And then I did what most girls would do: I compared. I compared what I had in reality with Logan to the fantasy I had with Matt. I compared Logan to the guys I dated in the past years. In my head, I listed down reasons why my past relationships never worked out for too long. Then I looked at the man beside me and realized what a wonderful blessing I had come across by accident.

I snuggled closer to Logan as he placed his arm at the back of my head.

Sometimes, a lot of things don't make sense anymore, I thought, and felt the past melt away. When I looked at Logan, I felt lighter, happier, and safer.

And because I was overwhelmed with gratefulness, I reached over and kissed him. Full on the mouth.

He kissed back.

When the moment ended, he looked at me wide-eyed and asked, "Does this mean we are...a couple?"

"No," I smiled. "Not yet."

"Weh, 'di nga?"

"Not yet, hot shot," I squeezed his nose playfully. "Because you still have a list of things to do for me."

"Hmm, and what's that?" he asked.

"I'll tell you tomorrow," I said. "Think of this as a dress rehearsal."

"Dress rehearsal!" Logan laughed. "I like that! You're really a funny girl."

We kissed again. I turned my back to him and he hugged me from behind. We slept for a few hours as the rain and wind washed the past away.

We could have done it and it would have been just right. But we didn't. It wasn't my past that stopped me that night. It was my present and my future. And even though I said I'm not terrified of falling in love again, my past brushes with love made me a bit more difficult to convince.

"Love is not love until it is given freely." Yeah, right. I think this dangerous state of mind is exclusive for middle-aged people who still believe in Santa Claus and his flying sleigh and reindeer--and probably those people who still burn love candles as they will for The One to come their way. And yet, I'm not being cynical. I still believe that love should be given freely, in overflowing ways, ONCE it is earned.

Yes. Love, like respect, is earned.

And it was just Logan's luck that he came into my life at the time when I was the hardest to convince.

The next day, I gave Logan "The List."

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