On New Year's eve I received a message from my Prince. He was asking if he could see me that night just in case he'll miss the last boat out to his island. Reading the message on my phone was very hypnotic, and all I could do was to say yes without a single trace of hesitation. But after hours of waiting, he didn't show up.

I thought of many things to excuse him of not showing up. Perhaps he was able to take the boat but his phone was out of coverage area. Or he may have thought that he have already informed me which in fact he did not. The list of possibilities is long, and I'll take everything on it just for him.

While trying to justify what happened, which I always do, it came to me that just the other night we were together. I watched him finished beer bottles over bottles while talking about his ex-girlfriend and their failed relationship. And the reason why he's drinking to death was because he love her still. And worst, he was crying all through out.

I stayed pretending to be sorry for what he's going through. But honestly, at the back of my mind, I wanted to leave. More than being an emotional sponge, I felt like I have evolved into an insensitive person. Callous of my feelings. And I loath myself for this.

It hurts knowing that we're not on the same page. But it hurts more not being able to comprehend reality.

Now, what does straight men teach me? The answer is simple; they teach me not to learn anything from them, so that if I will fall, I just go back to the cycle. And wait 'til the next person whom I'll share my world of illusions and promises.

I hate it. I spent the whole day thinking over and over the right words to say when I had to face him the other night. And I hate it. I hate myself for being silent all throughout the night. Perhaps I could do more practice for me to throw out those lines or some super extra mega heavy dose of courage might help. How could I not tell him what I feel? About him, about me and about us. Why do I keep on smiling when I with him when all the while I've been troubled with what I feel.

My Prince came for me last Saturday night. Apparently, he's in town again for some official monkey business. He looked very happy that night. Well, who would not? After being stuck in his lonely island for two weeks, he finally had the chance to visit his princess.

I still could not forget the thrill the last time we were together. Early dawn, we were on a chariot sailing along the sleepy streets of the city. While on the ride, he kept on telling me to hold tight while grabbing my hands and putting it around his torso. And so I did. I held him tight, closed my eyes and wished for the night not to end. But even a princess can not have all the things she wants. My Prince has to go and the princess has to wait for his return...

However, unlike any other fairytale our story is not written in a colorful book.

When I first met him, my Prince Charming was not wearing a shining armor. There were even no dragons nor a wicked step mother involved. It's the most unromantic 'Once upon a time' ever, if you'll ask me. Even until now, I refuse to believe that I met my Prince along a dark alley under a tree in the middle of the night upon the arrangement of my silly Fairy Godmother.

No magic spells, no genie to grant wishes, no glass shoes, not even a sight of the seven dwarfs but my Prince brought extreme happiness to me. The feeling is very different, it's like the excitement one feels seeing a star fall down from the heavens.

Just like our other dates, we try to keep it secret. We have made a pact to meet in our little hidden kingdom somewhere downtown. A one room ghetto with two beds and an old magic mirror. In that small room we let go of ourselves. Two strangers trying to make most of their borrowed time.

Little by little, I have come to know and understand my Prince better. The pages of his life may be thick and full of footnotes, but I'm not in a hurry. I'll cross my fingers for this one and hope for that time when I can say, 'and they live happily ever after'.