this story originally appeared in the philippine daily inquirer on October 9, 1999.
What would you do if your girlfriend cried after you asked her to marry you? Three things: fake an epilepsy attack, smile and say, ”I’m kidding,” or wait for her to answer. I took the third option. Tetet and I had been going steady for five years before I popped the question; time really flies when you have 1,001 things to do. All the time, I kept asking myself if I was working so hard, then why wasn’t I rich? Tetet knew I was often broke. (I can recall the time I was robbed. It was two in the afternoon when I got on an air-conditioned bus along Tandang Sora Avenue. Suddenly, four armed men staged a hold-up. One of them shouted cuss words when I opened my wallet. I only had P5.)
My marriage proposal naturally got Tetet thinking about our future. She was done with graduate school. She did it so well that she got a 10-month scholarship for advanced studies at the Kiel Institute of World Economics in Germany. I was a borderline graduate school dropout.
Why would she want to marry me? It would not make sense unless she loved me. I heaved a sigh of relief when she embraced me and said yes. Getting a marriage license from City Hall wasn’t a breeze. I felt like a ping-pong ball being bounced from one desk to another. There were financial problems. It would take a miracle for our measly budget to accommodate all the wedding expenses. Worse, I had to tell our folks about my post-wedding plan, and I knew they would be shocked. My plan was to tag along to Germany and live on Tetet’s stipend–in other words, make my wife my financier.
Sources of friction
At first, it seemed nothing could stand in the way of my brilliant plan. However, a priest (my spiritual director) helped me put things in perspective. He warned me that too many adjustments would be harmful to our marriage. He named four possible sources of friction: (1) adjustments in living abroad, (2) living on Tetet’s tight stipend, (3) my need to have the dignity of working, and (4) the possibility of a pregnancy. Given all this, I decided to postpone the wedding and settle for a betrothal.
Although no vows were made, the rite was like a multivitamin. It fortified our resolve to be faithful. When my fiancee finally left for Germany, I felt like a Mentos candy–cool on the outside but soft and positively breaking down inside. While Tetet was away, I focused on writing my thesis. It was on a topic close to my heart: poverty line estimates. I graduated among the top three in our class, but then there were only three of us. Tetet’s emails helped clear our doubts.
First, the adjustments to living abroad can be managed. Second, the allowance would be adequate. Third, I could work provided I was willing to accept odd jobs. There was still the possibility of a pregnancy since we were both always open to life. But our problem was not as serious as we initially thought. Getting a visa was made easier when I got invited to do research at the institute where Tetet was enrolled. With a passport and a stamped visa, I set aside all pride and begged for a plane ticket. Then I flew to Germany.
Forbidden fruit
Tetet and I stayed in a student dormitory with a fantastic view of a canal that led to the Baltic Sea. From my window, I could see ships as huge as the Titanic cruising by. At the back of the dorm was a forest with paths leading to two places where spirits roamed free: a church and a tavern. I could hear Antonio Vivaldi play ”The Four Seasons” concerto as I strolled with Tetet’s hand in mine. Kiel was a cool place, not unlike the Garden of Eden, complete with the forbidden fruit. Tetet and I set our minds on getting married.
But there was one catch: The church would only marry us after a civil ceremony had been conducted. Worse, the papers that I had were not enough. Other papers authenticated by the Philippine government were required. I phoned my Mom to get and mail the papers. And the long vigil began. Tetet was the only Asian in her post-graduate program. All of her 24 classmates were from Europe and Latin America. Two were Ph.D. candidates. One was the deputy governor of the central bank of Peru. Everyone was brilliant. I should know: I applied for the program twice and was rejected both times. The second time it happened, the program director and I were already friends. I was glad I wasn’t given false hopes and was spared from the demands of the program. I would have gone crazy listening to professors who were candidates for the Nobel Prize. It took three weeks to gather all the necessary papers.
All the while, Tetet and I were sleeping in separate rooms. Our self-imposed curfew was reminiscent of martial law. Some people were surprised at our behavior, considering that we were in a continent where traditional marriages had long since been considered obsolete. Sure, I was sorely tempted: it’s easy to do crazy things when you’re in a foreign country where nobody knows you. My hormones were working double time, but two things helped me prevail over my baser instincts. These were the daily Communion Tetet and I took and the frequent Confession we went to. Also, the benefits of biking across town to talk to an English-speaking priest were far greater than the rewards of short-term bliss. Most importantly, people in love do what their loved one wants and avoid those that they don’t. As if a reward for my patience, the landlord let me use the room farthest from Tetet’s room. Not only was it the best room in the house, it was also rent-free.
The wedding
On the day of our civil wedding, Tetet and I went to the Philippine consulate in Hamburg. The mood was festive. It was the first time the consul was officiating a wedding of Filipinos. Usually the wedding was between a Filipina and a German. We were with our Spanish best man Jacinto, whom we fondly called Cinto-cinto. The wedding rite was conducted in Filipino. Although Cinto-cinto could speak five languages, he needed Tetet to translate. When the consul asked me if I wanted to marry Tetet, I boldly replied, ”Opo.” Tetet had to stop translating to answer likewise. When Cinto-cinto was asked if he had any objections, he blurted out, ”Opo,” and brought the house down. When Tetet corrected him and said he should have answered, ”Hindi,” he screamed, ”How should I know!” But he promptly changed his reply.
We were married in church a week later. I thought the day would never come. I was too excited. I cut myself while shaving. I had a fever and a bum stomach. The preceding nights, I had weird dreams, one of which featured Alanis Morissette singing ”Ironic.” And indeed, it rained on our wedding day. Tetet got a free ride in a flashy Mercedes-Benz. She arrived at church 30 minutes late because of the historic, first-ever traffic jam in Kiel. The wedding was like a United Nations summit. We had 45 guests coming from 12 countries. Tetet’s sister was there: she happened to be in Germany taking graduate studies in urban planning. Tetet’s killer diet worked: she was able to fit in the gown I brought from Manila.
During the Mass, a young German lady cried. Church weddings are still in fashion. Our reception was held at the conference room of the student dorm. Speeches were made. We danced the waltz. Somebody played ”I Got You Babe” by Cher and Bono. The bouquet was caught, much to the dismay of the receiver’s live-in partner. Tetet’s classmates raised the funds that would allow us to spend our first night in a classy hotel. Martial law was lifted. And I was king of the world.
