Jace Ricarte

I have eight friends.

Okay, fine. Three.

One just got married, two are still waiting for "The One." Every once in a while, I get bombarded with several notifications telling me of recent encounters with a potential Mr. Right, or perhaps the details of an argument with the married friend's husband.

But here's the deal: I've never really been in a relationship; nor have I had the inconvenience of ever being in love. Not that I don't enjoy the drama of my friends' love lives, but I often find myself wondering: am I the right audience for these ramblings? Could I even offer advice that is helpful and substantial--something more than comforting shallow words?

For the sake of this blog, let's say that my friends are sane and that they are right to come to me for love advice. How could I justify my lack of experience in becoming their personal Papa Dudot?

To start, I would like to show off my sensational playlist of old love songs:

https://open.spotify.com/embed/playlist/2HdVIltMWJ2ZIn6pgTBnJo?utm_source=generator

Yes, my deep knowledge of love comes from Frank Sinatra himself!

I mean, I know that I haven't really been hopelessly devoted to anyone, nor have I wished for someone to fly me to the moon, but there is something about listening to greatness like these that just takes you to another place. Just the way Frankie Valli, Elvis Presley, and Peggy Lee describe how you see the skies, how you hear the birds, and how you smell the roses when you're in love can make you feel like you actually are. They offer a sweet foretaste of love, even before you can have it in full.

And I see it all around me, too—I see it in the way love is portrayed in teleseryes; I see it in the way my papa brings home street chika for my mama; and I see it in the way my grandma sways and sings to the spatula while she reminisces her courtship days with grandpa. I know love as it is felt by the people around me. My experience, secondhand as it may be, nonetheless provides me with some knowledge of what love is. I mean, let's consider Martial Law. Weird example, yes—but am I not allowed to talk about it just because I have not lived through it? Just like what Tony La Vina and Bernadine De Belen said, "[The truth] exists in those who experienced it and the documentation of these collective experiences." Hence, for as long as there are people who continue to go through something, and for as long as their experiences are properly retold, I can sing to Sinatra, I can write the next Romeo and Juliet, and I sure as heck can give advice to my frustrated friends!