I would like to take this moment to offer a toast to this beautiful bride, Mocha Uson.
I first encountered Mochi — that’s what I call her — at her favorite place: her Facebook fan page. She was sitting there, fingers blazing across the keyboard as usual, a phoenix of relentless misinformation and remarkably shameless profiteering. It was like watching the God make a rainbow for the first time.
I was but a timid journalist trying to break into the business then. So I hastily published my first draft of a scathing op-ed against her, hoping to catch her attention — desiring for her to wrap her fingernails around me and loop me into her crazy Wonderland of fiction and fancy. But to no avail.
Months later, I received word that her Twitter account had finally been taken down. I was beside myself. I had to check it out for myself, but even while I stared at the social network’s error screen, I found myself constantly hitting refresh. Had my words finally reached her tender chocolate heart? No, I thought to myself. With every hit of the F5 button, I told myself, get real, hundreds of timid journalists wanting to break into the business write op-eds about her every day. I closed my laptop and cried myself to sleep.
I arrived at my mother’s house the following Sunday only to find Mochi standing in the living room, decked out in a ravishing wedding gown. My family stood around her, beaming. Mochi took a step towards me and embraced me. I no longer felt the scalding heat of this once-Amazonian blogger. All I felt was warmth. I felt home.
I watched her march down the aisle towards me. Everything was in slow motion. Jason Magbanua was weeping in the background. I repeated the words under my breath, “Mahal na mahal kita. Gusto ko, ikaw ang pinakamaligaya sa lahat.”
She smiled at me from beneath the veil, then stepped past me to take the arm of my older brother. He turned towards me and winked, “Thanks for letting me revise your op-ed.”
O kay tagal kitang minahal, Mochi. O kay tagal kitang mamahalin.