The Man Who Bought the Whole Table Just to Get a Seat in Her Heart

My name is Vince. I’m a sales manager for a car dealership in Cebu. I’m used to "the sell"—I know how to dress, how to talk, and how to make people feel like they’re getting the deal of a lifetime. I’ve spent my career convincing strangers to trust me, but for the last two years, I’ve been trying to "sell" myself to a girl named Lianne by winning over everyone she knows.

I’ve operated on the theory that if I become the favorite person of her circle, she’ll eventually see me as the leading man. I’ve spent more money on her friends and family than I have on my own retirement fund. If her barkada wants to go to a luxury resort, I’m the one who "finds a discount" and pays the difference. If her mother needs a ride to the doctor, I’m the one who takes a half-day off work and shows up with a premium SUV and a basket of fruit.

I’m the guy who pays for the "grand feast" at every birthday, the guy who sends the biggest flower arrangements to her cousins’ graduations, and the guy who always has a spare ticket to the hottest concerts. I’ve become a legend in her family’s house.

"Vince is so generous," her Tita would say, patting my hand. "Lianne, why can't you find a guy as stable as Vince?"

I’d look at Lianne, hoping to see a spark of realization. But she’d just laugh and say, "Oh, Tita, Vince is just family. He’s our honorary kuya!"

Last weekend was her best friend Sloane’s bachelorette party in Boracay. I wasn't invited to the actual party, obviously, but I "sponsored" the villa. I spent nearly two months' commission to make sure they had a private pool and an open bar. I told myself that when Lianne saw the effort I put in for her friends, she’d finally realize that I’m the one who truly cares about her happiness.

I flew out there on the final night, telling them I was "in the area for business" and wanted to treat them to a farewell dinner. I booked a private table on the beach. I spent the whole night making her friends laugh, pouring their wine, and listening to their stories. I was the perfect host. I felt like I was winning.

As the night was winding down, Lianne’s phone buzzed. She looked at the screen and her entire face transformed—a look of pure, raw excitement that I’ve never seen directed at me.

"Oh my god, guys! Jace just landed!" she squealed.

The table went quiet. Sloane looked at me, then at Lianne. "Wait, I thought Jace was in Dubai?"

"He was! But he said he couldn't stand being away from me for another night," Lianne said, already standing up and checking her makeup in her phone screen. "He’s at the lobby! Vince, thanks so much for dinner, you’re literally a saint! Can you make sure the girls get back to the villa safely? I’m going to stay with Jace at his hotel."

I stood there, the salt air stinging my eyes, as she ran across the sand toward a guy who hadn't contributed a single peso to the weekend. Jace is a guy who "doesn't believe in paying for dinner" and constantly forgets her birthday. But he didn't have to impress her friends. He didn't have to sponsor a villa. He just had to show up.

I spent the rest of the night driving her drunk friends back to the villa in a rented van. I listened to them talk about how "hot" Jace is and how "romantic" it was that he surprised her. They’d already forgotten who paid for the wine in their systems.

"Vince, you're such a good sport," Sloane said, leaning her head against the window. "Seriously, you're going to make some girl really happy one day. You're like the ultimate support system."

I’m back at the dealership today. I just got a text from Lianne’s brother. "Hey Vince! Mom’s laptop broke. Since you’re so good with tech and stuff, do you think you could pick up a new one for her? We’ll pay you back next year when the harvest comes in!"

I looked at my credit card statement. I’m almost at my limit. But I’m already looking at the latest MacBook models online. I’m a sales manager, so I know when I’m being played, but I’m still hoping that if I buy enough "support," I’ll eventually buy her love. I’m the man who provides the stage, the lighting, and the audience, while she only has eyes for the guy who walks on at the last minute and steals the show without paying for a single ticket.