Two Movies, One Arcade Game, and a Hug I’ll Never Forget
It’s funny how some days stick with you—not because they were grand, but because they felt complete. No big plans, no fancy setups. Just two people, a couple of movies, an arcade cabinet, and the kind of connection that makes time feel slower. That’s exactly what happened about a month ago. It started with a simple plan: catch a couple of entries at the local film fest, hang out for a bit, and maybe squeeze in some games if time allowed. No expectations, just good company.
There’s something comforting about knowing how your day will go—especially when you’re spending it with someone who gets your kind of chill. I wasn’t dressed to impress. We weren’t even calling it a date. But somewhere between the movie tickets and the end-of-day hug, I could tell this wasn’t just another ordinary weekend.
📚 Table of Contents
1. Love, Laughter, and Filipino Films 2. Why Subtitles Became Our Favorite Struggle 3. Why Arcade Games Were the Real Love Language 4. A Medical Exam and a Mini Date 5. The Magic of Festival Mall 6. When 6 PM Meant More Than a Clock 7. What This Day Still Teaches Me 8. What I’d Do Differently Today 9. Not Just a Hug—A Time CapsuleLove, Laughter, and Filipino Films
The film lineup was part of a festival screening, and we managed to catch two: Aishite Imasu 1941 and So Happy Together. Both were surprisingly emotional—one set during the Japanese occupation with LGBTQ+ undertones, and the other, a more grounded look at love and friendship. I didn’t expect to enjoy both as much as I did, but they hit differently when you're sitting beside someone you’re starting to feel something for.
Aishite Imasu was especially heavy in theme. It portrayed a complex love story between a Filipino woman and a Japanese soldier, with a subplot involving a gay character navigating love during wartime. According to reviews from the time, the film was praised for its courage in tackling queer love against a historical backdrop. On the other hand, So Happy Together took a softer, more comedic route—about friendship, loneliness, and that tug-of-war between comfort and chaos. I found myself laughing, reflecting, and maybe overanalyzing every glance between us.
Why Subtitles Became Our Favorite Struggle
I’ll admit it—I had a tough time keeping up with the subtitles, especially in Aishite Imasu. The transitions between Tagalog, Japanese, and English made my brain do flips. My companion didn’t seem to mind though. We’d elbow each other every now and then when we missed a line, which somehow made the whole thing even more entertaining. At one point, I gave up reading altogether and just watched the characters’ faces to feel what was going on. Surprisingly, that worked.
What I enjoyed most was the shared silence. Not awkward, not tense—just two people absorbing a story at the same time. It’s a rare kind of comfort when you don’t feel the need to fill in every second with conversation. And even rarer when someone laughs at the same lines you do, or catches you reacting to a scene the exact same way.
Why Arcade Games Were the Real Love Language
After the movies, we wandered into the arcade like we always did. It’s sort of our unofficial post-movie ritual. While most people head for food courts or cafés, we go straight for Time Crisis. They had Time Crisis 3 on full display—loud, flashy, and practically begging for our tokens. I’ve been obsessed with that series since the first game, and this version had better graphics and two-player co-op with even smoother gun mechanics.
We weren’t trying to win anything that day. The goal was simple: just hang out, shoot some bad guys, and maybe show off a bit. But as we reloaded our virtual ammo side by side, I realized that arcade games had a way of breaking down whatever walls were still up between us.
👉 Pro Tip: Never challenge someone to Time Crisis unless you’re okay with losing—or bonding over shared defeat. The second player mode adds an extra layer of teamwork (and embarrassment).
A Medical Exam and a Mini Date
Earlier today, I had to go to Humana Clinic at King’s Court, Makati for a medical exam. It wasn’t exactly the most glamorous way to start a Friday—blood tests, urine and stool samples, physical checks, and even a chest X-ray. The whole thing felt like a pre-employment or school requirement. But somehow, it turned into another unexpected mini-adventure. As soon as I finished, I messaged the same person I was with during the movie day—and just like that, plans were made.
We met up and decided to head to Festival Mall in Alabang. It was far from where I had my exam, but something about ending the day with them made the travel feel worth it. Lunch at Wendy’s felt extra filling, maybe because I hadn’t eaten much after all those tests. We did a bit of window shopping, laughed at odd kiosk finds, and eventually found ourselves in that familiar chill spot from a month ago—same place, same people, just a little more familiar this time.
The Magic of Festival Mall
Festival Mall always had its own kind of charm. It wasn’t just a mall—it was a maze of everything from arcades to mini roller coasters, budget boutiques to name brands. That day, it felt like a space carved out for us, even if hundreds of other people were walking the same halls. We didn’t have an itinerary; we just walked, paused, commented, repeated. I think that’s what made it feel like time wasn’t passing. There was no rush.
After lunch, we strolled around aimlessly. The fountain area was still there, the carousel still spinning, and the basement stalls were full of random finds—CDs, novelty shirts, overpriced keychains. If you grew up in the South, you probably remember Festival’s indoor amusement park, X-Site, which opened in the early 2000s as one of the first indoor theme parks in Metro Manila. Even though we didn’t ride anything this time, just being there felt like stepping into a memory in real time.
When 6 PM Meant More Than a Clock
By late afternoon, we were just sitting, people-watching, letting our feet recover from the casual marathon. I glanced at the time—almost 6 PM—and felt this quiet tug in my chest. It wasn’t nerves, exactly. Just awareness. Awareness that the day had its own rhythm, and it was starting to slow. There’s a weird kind of intimacy in silence, especially when you’re sharing it with someone who doesn’t make it awkward.
We ended up exchanging letters before parting ways. Yes, actual handwritten notes. That might sound cheesy or dramatic, but in 2005, it was normal—texting still cost per message, and nothing said “I thought of you” more than something in your own handwriting. We both smiled, not overly emotional, just… soft. I’m not sure what that hug meant exactly. It wasn’t the start of anything official, but it didn’t feel like nothing either.
👉 Fun fact: In early 2000s Filipino culture, “ligawan” wasn’t always defined. Labels came later, and gestures like handwritten notes or surprise hangouts were often how affection was shown—quietly but deliberately.
What This Day Still Teaches Me
I didn’t expect any of that to mean much. A movie, a trip to the arcade, a medical exam. But together, those things stitched a day I keep remembering—maybe because it was effortless, or maybe because it was the first time I felt so understood without needing to explain anything. In a world that constantly tells us to aim higher and plan harder, it’s wild how some of the best memories come from just being present.
Looking back, I realize how little we actually need to make a moment feel meaningful. No grand gestures. Just honesty, time, and shared space. It reminds me of another blog I wrote, A Day in the Life of a Working Pet Parent, where simple routines and companionship also shaped the rhythm of a day. Moments like these make me appreciate how simplicity can feel like magic when you’re with the right person—even if you’re not calling it anything yet.
What I’d Do Differently Today
If I had a redo button, I don’t think I’d change the movies or the mall or even the games we played. But maybe I’d say a little more. Not in a “confess your feelings” kind of way, but just something honest—like how good the day felt, or how much I appreciated them showing up without making a big deal out of it. When things are casual, we tend to play it cool. Maybe sometimes, too cool.
Also, I would’ve taken more photos. Back then, camera phones weren’t exactly HD, and we didn’t take selfies like we do now. But that’s what makes the memories feel pure, too. They weren’t curated. They just happened. Still, I wish I had one photo of us beside that Time Crisis machine—sweaty palms, smirks, and all.
Not Just a Hug—A Time Capsule
Sometimes you don’t realize a memory is forming until much later. At the time, that hug just felt like a natural way to part. But now, it feels like a time capsule—a preserved version of how things used to be, before adult labels and overthinking took over. Maybe that’s why I remember it so clearly. Not because it was the most romantic thing, but because it was real, unfiltered, and undeniably human.
That whole experience reminded me of another throwback I blogged about: IBM Goes to Puerto Azul. It’s funny how both stories were never about extravagant things, but always about the people, the conversations, the laughs, the small, unexpected moments that somehow stick. Maybe those are the ones we should be writing down more often.
