I Sold My Gear and My Saturdays Just to Be the Person Who Always Answers Her First

My name is Marlon. I’m twenty-eight, and if you asked me three years ago who I was, I would’ve told you I was a mountain biker and a semi-pro gamer. I had a group of guys I rode with every Saturday morning in Rizal, and every Sunday night, I was part of a competitive e-sports team. My life was loud, active, and full of things I loved. But that was before Celine.

Celine and I are "close." That’s the word she uses. I’ve been in love with her since she was a bridesmaid at my cousin’s wedding. She’s the kind of girl who gets overwhelmed by life easily—the kind who needs someone to "ground" her. I decided early on that I wanted to be that ground. I thought that if I was always the most available person in her life, she’d eventually see that I was the only one who truly prioritized her.

It started small. I’d skip a Sunday night match because she had a "bad day" and needed someone to talk to for five hours. Then I started missing my Saturday rides because she’d spontaneously decide she wanted to go to a museum or a flea market, and she "didn't want to go alone."

Eventually, I just stopped. I sold my mountain bike to pay for a weekend trip for her and her friends that they were short on cash for. I uninstalled all my games because the notifications were "distracting" me from being present when she messaged. My friends stopped calling. They got tired of me saying, "I can't, Celine might need me later." Now, my hobby is her. My hobby is waiting.

Last Saturday was a clear, beautiful day. My old riding group posted photos from the summit of a trail I used to love. I was sitting on my couch, staring at the wall, when Celine called.

"Marlon, are you busy? My kitchen sink is making a gurgling sound and it’s really stressing me out. I feel like the house is going to flood."

I was there in twenty minutes. I’m not a plumber, but I spent four hours under her sink, getting covered in grey water and grime, while she sat at the kitchen island scrolling through her phone.

"You're so good at this, Mar," she said, not looking up. "I told Dave he should learn how to fix things, but he just says that's what landlords are for. He's so 'city boy,' you know?"

Dave. The guy she’s been dating for two months. The guy who was probably out with his own friends while I was elbows-deep in her drain.

"I don't mind, Celine," I said, wiping sweat from my forehead with a greasy sleeve. "I’m just glad I was free."

"I know! That’s what I love about you. You’re always free. It’s like you don't have all that 'guy stuff' to do like Dave does. He’s always at the gym or at his football practice. It’s so annoying how he puts his hobbies first."

I stayed until 9:00 PM. I fixed the sink, I changed a hard-to-reach lightbulb, and I even helped her reorganize her pantry because she said it would "help her anxiety." I missed the one gaming tournament my old team invited me back for as a sub. I didn't care. I thought the fact that I spent my whole Saturday being her "hero" meant something.

As I was leaving, a car pulled up. It was Dave. He looked fresh, smelled like expensive cologne, and had a bag of takeout in his hand.

"Hey, Grant—I mean, Marlon," he said, barely glancing at me. "Thanks for fixing that sink. Saved me a headache. You’re a real pal."

Celine ran to him and gave him a huge hug. "Dave! You’re just in time! Marlon fixed everything. Now we can finally watch that movie."

She didn't even invite me to stay for a slice of the pizza I knew Dave didn't pay for with his own physical labor. I walked to my car, my hands smelling like old pipes and dish soap. I looked at my phone and saw a notification from my old riding group’s chat: "Checking in on Marlon. Hope the 'emergency' was worth missing the best ride of the year. We’re deleting the thread, see ya around."

I’m home now. My apartment is quiet. There’s no bike in the corner, no glowing PC on the desk. Just me and my phone, which is plugged in and at 100% volume. I’m tired, but I’m not going to sleep yet. Celine mentioned she might have trouble sleeping later because of the caffeine she drank with Dave. I need to be awake in case she needs someone to talk her through her insomnia. I’ve sacrificed everything I used to be just to be a "handy" ghost in her life. I’m the man with no hobbies, waiting for a girl whose favorite hobby is forgetting I exist the moment the guy she loves walks through the door.