Dear Yaya Dub

Last night, I listened again to my taped interview of you for the cover of PeopleAsia magazine. It was the only interview, aside from the one I did with Nora Aunor last year, that I listened to again after I transcribed its entirety. And I know, I will listen to this interview again if only to remind myself of the few lessons that can be glimpsed upon that conversation between us that lasted 51 minutes and 20 seconds.

You are so real. Twenty-nine minutes into our conversation, Alden Richards, your reel-time boyfriend, entered the room to say hi to you. His eyes lighted up. Yours, too. There were sparks all over the makeup room. He gave you a buss. Your eyes locked and you told him: “Ang pogi mo pa rin.” He smiled. And kissed you again on the cheek. You were both so real, so genuine.

I don’t wonder anymore why the two of you, as major mainstays of Eat Bulaga!’s kalyeserye “Juan For All, All For Juan” are so loved by millions of fans all over the world. You are so adored that the PeopleAsia cover that bears you both on the cover sold like the proverbial hotcake minutes after it hit the magazine stands. Two Saturdays ago, it took only a heartbeat for the first phone call to land at the office of PeopleAsia when the magazine posted the cover on social media. The telephone lines kept ringing. To this day. The already 11,000 likes on PeopleAsia’s Facebook page are still increasing. When Emerald Headway, the magazine distributor, announced that the magazine was sold out in less than 48 hours, many of the members of the AlDub Nation called me to secure them a copy. One friend said she would send a copy to Poland — to a Polish AlDub fan. Another very good friend of mine who lives in Forbes Park is still waiting to get hold of her PeopleAsia issue with you and Alden on the cover.

You said you’ve met already Kris Aquino, the first subject of your dubsmashing, and she told you that “she will try to guest you and Alden” on her show — in the rival station of  your home network GMA-7. I’m quite excited to see that. But more than that, I’m looking forward to reading your first novel (a la Message in a Bottle or A Walk to Remember by your favorite author Nicholas Sparks), which you said is in the offing. But first, you promised yourself, you have to get back to writing a few more chapters to finish it.

Despite your popularity, you remain grounded. In fact, to this very moment, you remain clueless how to explain the phenomenon of the AlDub’s dizzying popularity. I like the fact that you acknowledge that you are famous now but this concept does not swell your head. “It is my prayer that this blessing continues,” you told me. “But I am also aware that this is not all possible without the support of the AlDub fans.” And if only I could describe how gratitude lounged on your face when you mentioned the word “AlDub Nation,” I’m sure your loyal fans would create another world just because of how happy they would become.

Those who look up to you will learn financial literacy from you. What did you buy from your first check from Eat Bulaga? “Waley (None),” you said. From your second check? “Waley pa rin.” From your earnings in your almost 20 TV commercials? “Waley talaga.” Because?  “I’m kuripot. I do not see the need to touch my earnings. I have not thought of what to invest in yet. But I am also not known to splurge.”

Your face, even before the famous Steven Doloso could doll you up, was already beautiful. I complimented you very sincerely. You shyly said “Thank you.” You added, “I am not convinced that I am beautiful. Hindi po gano’n ang tingin ko sa sarili ko. I have low self-esteem. Kahit anong papuri po ang matanggap ko na maganda ako, hindi ko po ito pinaniniwalaan.” But I still believe you are beautiful — inside out.

“Nakaranas ka bang maghirap?” I asked you.

“Hindi po,” you answered albeit tentatively. You were actually timid to answer this question.

“Is it safe to assume that everything was presented to you on a silver platter?”

“Opo. Pero hindi naman po sa lahat ng bagay.”

You never went hungry, you told me. The material things were ably provided for by your parents. Your mom, an accountant, owns five Shell gasoline stations in Bulacan. Your dad, an engineer, has his own construction company that builds roads in Metro Manila. The wants and whims, so to speak, of their five children were no problem to them.

Then, 34 minutes into our conversation, I asked you: “Saan ka lamang nagkulang? Anong bagay lamang ang hindi naibigay sa iyo.”

You cried. For a minute. I saw your tears. Celeste Tuviera, a sought-after hairstylist, stopped fixing your hair. She pulled some tissue from a box and handed it to you. You kept quiet. I looked at your reflection in the mirror. I saw your pain. Through your tears I saw your vulnerability, your sincerity. I had a glimpse of your heart, of your soul. I kept quiet, too. I honored your pain. I gave you dignity in celebrating your pain.

I was ready to abandon my last question just so I could navigate our conversation somewhere else. But you opted to dignify my query. You opted to honor your own pain, perhaps thinking that by being honest, you could liberate yourself.

“TLC. Tender loving care. ‘Yun po ang hindi naibigay sa akin. Kulang po ako sa atensyon noong bata ako,” you said.

“If there’s one thing beautiful that this popularity has brought me, it is that I have become close to my family.”  And when you found it awkward that you were shedding tears in the presence of nine other people at the interview, you countered yourself by exhibiting a bit of your Yaya Dub face, the face that you comically contort on national TV.

“I have a lot of realizations about my parents, my siblings, about my relationship with them. Affected po ako kapag sila ang topic. Unusual changes are happening now. I did not have the same attention from them when I was growing up. Kulang po ako sa atensyon. But slowly, I am getting used to their attention. I thank the Lord for this opportunity for my family and me to become close. Ito na po ang tamang panahon to make things right. Little by little,” you said, professing your love, pure and simple, for your parents and siblings.

From then on, I have become a fan of your heart. I felt your pain but I also felt your genuine desire to make things “right.” You said you have forgotten the pain of losing two amorous relationships but this newfound relationship with your family is what keeps your 20-year-old soul going. Your honesty is indelible, incandescent even.

You told me many times in the interview that your life “is boring and uneventful;” that you were like a “plant” and your life would go on without being noticed. You turned to Dubsmash — thus your sobriquet Yaya Dub —  and created a world all your own as you created more than 60 short selfie videos with sounds and spiels of famous people.

But fate — for someone who wanted to become an artista but knew she was “ugly” and did not have what it takes to become one — has played an auspicious trick on you. Your beauty inside out was revealed. And this is one reality that will remain in the hearts of the millions of people who see through your sincere and grateful heart.

The last voice I heard in my interview was yours. “Thank you po,” you said. I, too, am grateful.

Maine, you impress upon me the goodness of the human spirit. And, as always, good things happen to good people.

A fan of your heart, Büm

(For your new beginnings, e-mail me at bumbaki@yahoo.com. I’m also on Twitter @bum_tenorio and Instagram @bumtenorio. Have a blessed Sunday!)