‘I’m Drunk, I Love You’: The Torpe and Paasa Culture

MARUPOK much?

We’ve all been there—overanalyzing small gestures, convincing ourselves that a simple smile is a secret love confession, and holding onto every good morning text like it’s a grand declaration of feelings.

I’m Drunk, I Love You (2017) isn’t just a movie— it’s a two-hour tribute to every individual who has ever clung to false hope when it comes to romantic relationships. It’s for the ‘marupok’, the ‘delulu’, and the ones who refuse to see the red flags even when they’re waving right in front of them. 

Why is this movie different? Because we’ve all been there. Most of us know what it felt like to be Carson— the movie’s protagonist played by Maja Salvador. We know what it feels like to hope, wait, and tell ourselves that maybe, just maybe, love is about patience (Spoiler: It’s not).  

It’s a masterclass in unrequited love, perfectly capturing the exciting yet ultimately gut-wrenching moment when you realize that your relationship would never exceed the boundaries of friendship. 

But aside from its portrayal of one-sided love, the movie also presents us with a showdown between the two most common forces in Filipino romance: the ‘torpe’ and the ‘paasa’. 

Carson is the Patron Saint of the Torpe, the martyr sitting on a seven-year crush like it’s a long-term investment, too scared to confess in case it ruins the friendship. 

Dio, on the other hand, is the undisputed Paasa King— just affectionate enough to keep her hoping, and just distant enough to never give an answer. 

Together, they create not just a love story, but a portrait of how deeply ingrained Filipino values can set the stage for heartbreak.

Carson: The Torpe MVP

Carson isn’t just torpe—she’s the reigning, undefeated champion (self-respect naman beh!). Seven years of loving Dio in silence, bending over backward for him, and staying put despite watching him shower affection on everyone but her. 

At the start of the movie, she’s still holding onto the fragile hope that maybe—just maybe—Dio will finally see her as more than a friend.

But when they went to La Union, she learned that Dio only attended the music festival because he was in pursuit of Pathy (with an H!). 

Throughout the film, Carson grapples with the agony of being a third wheel, stuck in the endless loop of her one-sided love.

But although it is easier to blame Carson for being ‘torpe’, I think that the culture which gave birth to it also shares responsibility on why she turned this way. 

For example, our culture of ‘hiya’ or ‘kahihiyan’ might play a huge role in this. Kahihiyan is the Filipino’s concept of shame and embarrassment. It’s a deeply rooted cultural value that aims to make us feel afraid of social disgrace. It is often tied to the idea of maintaining one’s dignity and avoiding actions that could lead to humiliation. 

With hiya, rejection is not just personal— it can be treated as a public scandal. 

Carson’s katorpehan might have stemmed from this. She isn’t just afraid of rejection—she’s terrified of the embarrassment that comes with it. To confess would mean risking her dignity, her friendship with Dio, and the possibility of being seen as assuming (umasa ka, girl?). 

Instead, she swallows her feelings, plays it cool, and suffers in silence, all to avoid the shame of a love that might not be returned.

Another thing that fuels Carson’s katorpehan is patience. And yes, patience is a virtue—but Filipinos tend to take it to the extreme when it comes to love. We’ve romanticized waiting, convincing ourselves with lines like “Kung meant to be, mangyayari.” But love isn’t magic, and the person on the receiving end isn’t a manghuhula. It’s unfair to expect someone to read between the lines of unspoken feelings and subtle gestures. Instead of thinking, “Kung mahal niya ako, mararamdaman niya,” we need to stop being afraid of admitting it. We can’t just sit back and hope the universe does the work. 

Dio: The Paasa King

Dio is not your textbook villain. He doesn’t wear a black cloak nor does he have minions. He’s not hatching an evil plan to conquer the world. 

But let’s be real— he is the villain in Carson’s story and the one who challenges her growth arc. And whether he knows it or not, his actions scream ‘paasa’. 

Do you honestly believe that in Carson’s seven years of pining, Dio never once picked up on her feelings? Yeah, me neither. 

But the real red flags started waving when, after Carson’s tearful confession, Dio kissed her—while still actively chasing after Pathy.

This is the paasa mindset at work, and sadly, Filipino culture sometimes lets it slide—romanticizing mixed signals as “kilig” instead of calling them out for what they are.

It might also have something to do with how, as Filipinos, we tend to view masculinity in the lens of emotional avoidance. A lot of Filipino men are raised to be cool and chill. They were not allowed to cry nor to confront their feelings. As they grow up, this translates into emotional unavailability. 

Dio might have feelings for Carson too, as was hinted at the end of the movie, but instead of confronting it. He kept it vague. This is emotional unavailability at its finest—avoiding deep conversations, sidestepping commitment, and leaving everything open-ended just enough to keep the other person from fully walking away. Rather than acknowledging his emotions, Dio let them simmer in the background, choosing comfort over confrontation.

I also think that Dio was enjoying Carson’s affection, despite the pain it causes the latter. Yet he’s never truly ready to return it because it means giving up his carefree lifestyle, one where he can jump from a relationship to another. 

Many Filipinos are afraid of ruining a good thing. And Dio’s flirtation with other girls is a part of it. If a relationship isn’t defined, there’s no risk of breaking it. People like Dio hover in the space between romance and friendship because they fear that once emotions are put on the table, there’s no going back.

Time to Break the Cycle

I’m Drunk, I Love You teaches us things not just about unrequited love but the importance of proper communication of feelings. 

If we are to learn something from Carson and Dio’s story, it is that heartbreak is inevitable but it might not hurt as much if we learn to disengage from behaviors and habits that prolong our agony. 

For example, we must prioritize communication instead of assumption. No more “Baka mahal niya rin ako” without actual confirmation. Love isn’t a guessing game. We’ve been conditioned to believe that subtle gestures and pakiramdaman are enough, but unless it’s said outright, it’s just wishful thinking. Speak up, ask, and clarify—because assuming is not the same as knowing.

It is also important to seek clarity in relationships. Dio’s biggest crime wasn’t rejecting Carson—it was keeping her on the hook. Paasa culture thrives on ambiguity, and it’s on us to demand clarity. If they act like they like you but won’t make a move, don’t settle for “baka” or “ewan ko”. Ask yourself: Do I deserve someone who keeps me confused? (Hint: You don’t.)

It’s easy to romanticize the Carson phase. The quiet devotion, the hope, the idea that maybe, just maybe, they’ll wake up one day and realize they love you too. But love isn’t about waiting for someone to choose you. Love is about choosing yourself. 

So to all Carsons out there, don’t wait for a Dio to change his mind. Be your own happy ending. Please, grumaduate ka na.