When life changed color

Some places, like Seoul, you only see on television.

You grow up thinking those moments belong only to the wealthy.

Then one day, you’re inside one.

And it feels unreal.

I’m writing this reflection as we sit by the Han River.

No rush.
Just absorbing the moment. 

Letting the city sink in.

The other day, we went up N Seoul Tower.

Tasting authentic kimchi (not for me, unfortunately)
while Korean neon lights stretched endlessly below us.

While we were there, we added a love lock
and pretended we weren’t being sentimental.

We were.

In Myeongdong, we tried to blend into the crowd.

Munched on tteokbokki from a street stall.

Went shopping for those trending skincare products
to chase that Korean glass-skin look. 

Hopefully, the products work.

Even if they don’t change us,

the memory did.

We stepped into Hanok Cultural Village and Gyeongbokgung Palace.

The same royal grounds from Jewel in the Palace,

which aired almost every night for months in the Philippines.

Now we were standing inside it.

Wearing matching couple hanbok.

Not watching.

Living it.

Then there was Gangnam.

The district made famous by a song the whole world knew.

And yes, we danced to Oppa Gangnam Style.

Half-embarrassed. Fully happy.

Two tourists. No shame.

In the evening, we wandered around Itaewon and Hongdae.

Global streets and youthful corners.
Where cultures mix and creativity lives.

There was a time when trips like this were just dreams.

“Someday,” we said.

So we saved.

Said no to small things.

Chose patience.

Until one day, we could say yes.

Enough to be here.

Yesterday, in Namiseom, that’s where it all made sense.

Rows of trees.
Slowly changing colors.
Turning red and yellow.

Foliage foreign to my homeland.

I thought about us.

How we used to be the ones watching.
And now, we were the ones walking.

How seasons shift.
And somehow, people do too.

From dreaming.
To arriving.

If you stay patient long enough,
if you keep believing in “someday,”
life eventually changes.

And sometimes,
you make it far enough to see it happen.

That’s when you realize:

Life changed color.  

Unposted happiness

“Why are you not posting about your girlfriend on social media?”

I’ve been asked that more than once.

As if love needs documentation.

As if affection needs an audience.

We live in a digital world.

Social media is how many people document life.

Posting your partner.

Sharing milestones.

Celebrating moments.

That is normal.

But over time, I started noticing something.

Not all love lives online.

Some of the happiest relationships

exist quietly.

No hashtags.

No captions.

No audience.

Just two people choosing each other, every day.

There is a difference between sharing joy

and seeking validation.

Between celebrating love

and performing it.

When every moment becomes content,

connection slowly becomes confirmation.

Confirmation that things are “okay.”

That things look “perfect.”

That people are watching.

I once knew a couple who looked flawless online.

Always smiling.

Always “in love.”

Behind the posts were arguments and tears.

When they broke up, everyone was surprised.

Except those who really knew them.

That taught me something.

Visibility is not stability.

Silence is not absence.

Some people do not post

because they have nothing to prove.

Because their relationship is not a campaign.

It is a commitment.

Real happiness does not need proof.

Contentment does not need likes.

Security does not need shares.

Some of the strongest love stories

are never posted.

They are lived.

And in a world that documents everything,

maybe the best moments are the ones kept private.

After all,

the rest of us will survive just fine

without daily updates from #DateNight.