Uso pa ba ang harana?
I’ve written about friendship, that sweet giddy rush we call kilig, Valentine’s Day, ghosting and seen-zoning and all the other clever ways people vanish from relationships, cheating, lavender marriages, the ups and downs of parenting, love letters, and even a love that remembers long after forgetting should have set in.
But I don’t remember ever writing about courtship, so here goes. Listen up, boys and girls.
I often hear millennial and Gen Z women lamenting the shortage of guys who are boyfriend material. They bemoan that the dating pool isn’t dry, just shallow, perhaps, like many eligible suitors. Apparently, the good ones are either already taken or gay, while others are F-boys or otherwise still tied to their mama’s apron strings.
For the most part, the ladies feel the guys are simply too lazy to put in any effort. Maybe it’s the apps that have reduced courtship to left and right swipes, where rejection is just a screen tap. But really, what hafen, guys?
Is it romantic indolence? Hubris (especially for the pogi boys who think girls should be chasing them). Or maybe introversion? It could be atychiphobia—an intense fear of failure. (You have to hand it to the Greeks for inventing words that rightfully belong in a spelling bee.)
Back in the day, long before gadgets started running our lives, courtship was a rite of passage. It just happened. I remember my father preparing me for it by teaching me the finer points of wooing girls. I was only eight. I was more concerned with food, books, and games. Girls were farther down in my list of priorities. Still, I listened, and I learned.
He didn’t share the cheap tricks, like spiking ladies’ drinks or faking swagger. He taught me something way more important: how to be a gentleman, but unlike the drug-dealing Mickey Pearson type from the 2019 sleeper hit The Gentlemen.
Simple acts counted: opening and holding doors, letting ladies (and kids and old folks) go first, walking on the danger side of the road, helping carry stuff (or do any task, for that matter), and never—ever—arguing with her in public.
Above all, a promise is sacred.
If you say you’ll take her to a movie, no typhoon or flood should stop you from being on time. If you promise to call when you get home, you do it, and happily burn the telephone line for hours. If you promise to love her, you don’t do it by flirting with other girls while you’re seeing her.
And of course, there’s the family. In those days, you weren’t just courting the girl—you’re also courting her parents, her brothers, even her yaya (I know I did). You learned diplomacy fast, or you didn’t get invited back.
That’s Courtship 101.
Traditionally, flowers and chocolates are staples. Just make sure she’s not allergic, though she’ll probably still appreciate the thought. Even if you’re not a nepo baby with multimillion-dollar sports cars in the garage, you’ll do fine if you show up early, look decent, smell good (poor hygiene is a deal-breaker), and hold up your end of an intelligent conversation.
And yes, boys, commuting is okay. But act like a true gentleman: help her get in and out, pay the fare, (no KKB—kanya-kanyang bayad—on a first date, please), and make sure she’s safe from the occasional pervert in the bus or train. A car ride will probably earn you points, which only means you should learn how to drive. It’s a life skill, and yes, it impresses.
When I was in college, I’d borrow my brother’s or sister’s car for dates. I was driving by the time I was 13, so driving prowess was never an issue. That meant bargaining for chores in exchange and returning the car like a taxi to the garage: in the same condition, with the same amount of fuel.
On the date itself, remember to open and close the door for her. It’s all right to feel proud about having a car, even though a loaner, but never be a d**k about it, unless you’re just a little d**k to begin with.
Also remember that a car is not a “love machine” that’s supposed to bring you to a “quieter place.” It’s transport. Keep it roadworthy, clean, and comfortably cool. A date is never a good time to show off your roadside mechanical or tire-changing skills.
I am not unmindful that not everyone has deep pockets, especially students. I believe that courtship isn’t about how much you spend, but how creative you are. A simple date at a pares joint, if you make her laugh hard enough, can outshine the fanciest steakhouse. It’s the talk that matters. You get it right, and the night will feel longer than a payday Friday commute.
Now, dinner.
If it’s date day one, impress wisely. Let her order first, not only to avoid duplicate dishes but also to size her up. Is she adventurous? Considerate? Or just freeloading by ordering the most expensive items on the menu?
Be interesting, which is not a signal for you to dominate the conversation. My father said that girls are talkers, and boys are listeners. It takes extraordinary skill for a guy to impress with few words. Being a great listener is an integral part of any effective communication.
And when the night ends, don’t just part ways after dinner and drinks. Drop her home. Then call her from your house—just to ensure her that you’re okay. It’s a small gesture that says a lot of good things about you.
But let’s go back to the title. Uso pa ba ang harana? Is serenading still a thing? I borrowed it from Parokya ni Edgar. Honestly, I don’t know if guys still serenade girls. It’s an endangered practice, something that could spell immediate triumph or humiliation.
As for me, I never did a public harana. But I once wrote a song—music and lyrics—for my girlfriend. It was clumsy, amateurish, and certainly not a chart topper that could even come close to Rumi and Jinu’s duet in KPop Demon Hunters. But even if the song had long been forgotten, the music sheet gone, it got the job done.
Like Maria in The Sound of Music, I must have done something good. That ex-girlfriend? She became my wife.
