Love Is Not Felt Unless You Are Hurt Love is something you cannot truly feel unless you have been hurt.
I am a Christian, and in our congregation we regularly hold youth fellowships where young people are taught how to live as children of God. It was my first time attending such a gathering, which lasted for four days. That was where I first encountered George. He was just the right age—slightly older than me. He was handsome, tall, and fair-skinned. At first, I only admired him quietly. I had no idea that we would end up in the same group.
What caught my attention was how active and dedicated he was as a youth servant. Slowly, over the four days, we grew closer. I was surprised by how caring he was—so caring that at times he almost crossed the line, and I felt embarrassed because there were so many eyes around us. After all, it was a youth fellowship. But he didn't seem to care.
On the last night of the gathering, I noticed he was unusually quiet. While I was busy eating snacks—because I really love to eat—I asked him why he was so silent when he was usually very noisy. Suddenly, he said, "I'm going to miss you."
I almost choked when I heard that. I got nervous, my body went cold, and I didn't know how to respond. It was the first time I had ever heard words like that directed at me. All I could say was, "What's wrong with you? It's not like we won't see each other again. We can just text."
He smiled and said teasingly, "Make sure you reply to my messages, okay? Or I'll scold you when we go home."
When we finally went home, my phone kept ringing. Curious, I checked—and it was him. I hurried to answer because I was excited.
"Hello?" I said.
He replied, "Why does it feel like we just got home, yet I already miss you? 143."
I laughed and asked, "What's 143? Is that a lottery number?"
I laughed because I didn't understand. Then he said, "I love you."
I almost swallowed my saliva in shock. I couldn't speak for what felt like a million seconds. I didn't know what to say, so I told myself, This is just temporary. It will pass. But deep inside, my heart was already pounding.
We continued talking secretly because my parents were very strict. Dating was forbidden, so we kept in touch quietly. Months passed with nothing but text messages—chat apps weren't common back then, and load was expensive.
Then came another big youth gathering. I was so excited because finally, I would see George again. When I arrived at the venue, I saw him smiling widely. I approached him and asked how he was. He said, "You're even more beautiful now." Again, I was stunned—this guy was really something.
The activities lasted six days. One day, while I was standing by the window looking at the gate, I noticed a group of youths carrying tents. They all looked good, but one caught my attention—a handsome, tall, fair-skinned guy with a long nose, carrying a guitar.
During the opening program, that group turned out to be the band. They played Christian songs, and the atmosphere was beautiful and alive. Everyone was enjoying.
Later, when we were grouped again, George and I were no longer in the same group. I felt sad because he was the only person I really knew there. That's when I met Faye—she was very beautiful and from Davao. We chatted a lot and had fun during parlor games.
On the third day, Faye invited me to sleep in their tent. I told George about it, and he said, "Okay, take care." Faye and I were so happy, jumping around. When we arrived at the tent, she introduced me to Arthur—her cousin—who would also be sleeping there. The tent was big enough for about eight people, so there was plenty of space.
That night, Faye fell asleep first. Arthur woke up and asked me to have coffee with him. We went outside the tent and talked under the starry sky. We shared stories about our lives, and it felt like we had known each other for a long time. I felt strangely comfortable with him—different from how I felt with George.
The next morning, Arthur teased me, telling me not to diet because the food was delicious. I smiled, feeling shy. George, who was sitting in front of me, noticed. His face changed, and he asked who Arthur was. I told him he was Faye's cousin. He just said, "Okay."
Later that day, Arthur invited me to watch their basketball game. When I arrived at the court, I realized Arthur's opponent was George. I panicked—who was I supposed to cheer for?
Arthur scored first and blew me a flying kiss. The crowd went wild, and everyone stared at me, especially the girls. I was so embarrassed. George kept looking at me, and when he scored, he smiled. I was frozen on the bench.
Arthur's team won. Then he walked up to me, called me beautiful, took my towel, and wiped his face with it. I looked at George—his face was dark with anger. He turned and walked away.
That night, I slept again in Faye's tent. Later, Arthur held my hand and asked me to come outside to look at the stars. Then he suddenly said, "I think I'm starting to like you. I love you."
I was shocked and extremely embarrassed. Before I could even respond properly, he kissed me. I was startled and scolded him, but he just laughed and asked me to be his girlfriend.
I don't know what came over me—but I said yes.
The next morning, I didn't know how to face George. He smiled at me, unaware that the girl he was courting now had a boyfriend.
When he said he would miss me again, I apologized and told him not to expect anything from me anymore—I already had a boyfriend. He stood up, shocked, and walked away without asking who or when. I later learned that he went home early and almost got into an accident.
Years passed. For three years, Arthur and I stayed connected through texts, calls, and Friendster. We were happy. Every December, we would meet during youth gatherings, enjoying six days together before returning to our normal lives.
I thought we would have a happy ending.
Arthur went back to school and met Mia—beautiful, fair-skinned, and everything that made me insecure. He said she was just his best friend. I tried to be okay with it—until one night, I called him ten times and he didn't answer. Later, I found out he was busy accompanying Mia to cheer dance practice.
Days turned into weeks, weeks into months. Then Arthur called me crying, apologizing. He said he loved me deeply.
Then he told me the truth.
Mia was pregnant—and he was the father. My body went cold. I trembled and cried. I told him to stay with her because she needed him more. I turned off my phone for a week. When I turned it back on, there were countless messages—begging, pleading, asking me to go with him to Bicol.
I loved him so much—but I chose to let him go, because it was the right thing to do.
Arthur never married Mia.
Later, Mia even begged me to take Arthur back.
The pain was unbearable—I was blamed, even though I was the one who lost him. That was when I remembered George—and finally understood the pain I caused him when I led him on. Now, I am happy with my career. I've dated many men but never took any of them seriously. I've grown cautious, even angry at times—but I keep moving forward. If the right man comes, I will accept him. If not, I will still continue.
Lesson learned: Never hurt someone, because it will come back to you. Love is not a game—it is a choice to be faithful.