There used to be a time—a bygone era of simplicity and uncomplicated living—when only life’s most important questions deserved careful consideration. Important questions like “Do I really love her?” or “Is he the right one for me?” or “How will this loan affect my retirement fund?”

Nowadays, even the most mundane aspects of everyday life demand an extraordinary amount of serious decision-making skills. You want some coffee? What’s it going to be—instant or brewed, caffeinated or decaf, tall or “grande” or “venti,” fresh from the coffee tree or fresh from the anus of a furry jungle creature? Twenty years ago, coffee was served hot. Today, you can choose between hot and iced. You can even ask the barista to serve it not-too-hot (as if the barista holds a Ph.D. in molecular physics so that he knows the exact temperature at which something becomes “not-to-hot”).

Want some eggs? Our grandparents just chose between fresh eggs and “bugok” [rotten]—a very simple task. Today, our generation faces a virtual tsunami of choices that hurtles toward us as we ponder the life-altering decision of choosing the perfect egg. Regular or organic, caged layers or free-range, all-natural or fortified with Vitamins A, D, E and Omega-3, proudly Philippine-made or cheaply imported? Eggs also used to come in only three sizes: large, medium and small. Today there are five: extra large, large, medium, small, and petite. (The last must have been invented by an enterprising “palengkera” [public market vendor] who thought “very small” was not marketable.)

Everywhere we go, we are bombarded with choices. This looks good at first glance because it gives us a sense of control and excitement over our otherwise chaotic, uncontrollable, bland and boring lives. But this also makes us feel as if our destinies are wrapped up in our choice of soap (anti-bacterial or extra moisturizing?), shampoo (glossy shine or age-defying?), or TV station (“kapamilya” or “kapuso”?). From cellular phones to credit cards to insurance plans, the sheer number of choices that we have to contend with every day means that yes, we are more in control of our lives than ever before.

But are we, really? And are we happier because we have the freedom to pick from a variety of choices?

I am writing this because I am one of those people unlucky (or lucky, depending on how you see my predicament) enough to be faced with too many choices. Now, my problems are not as easy as picking a brand of soap or shampoo, but life-changing stuff. It falls under the “most serious” category: work and love.

I am an operating room nurse, and as with all Filipino nurses, it is a given that sooner or later I will work abroad. Which is really quite sad because I sincerely like my present job. There are times when I want to stay. My job pays well (I am not a millionaire, yet, but I am not a beggar either), the hospital gives generous benefits, and my job is mentally and physically stimulating. Above all, I feel gratified that in my own way I contribute to saving some people’s lives.

Don’t get me wrong. Being a nurse is not all green meadows and daisies. Far from it. Like any other job, mine also has its fair share of bad days. Especially in the operating room, which is one of the most stressful areas in any hospital. There are toxic days when I am tempted to jam a surgical knife down somebody’s throat or bash a person’s head with an orthopedic mallet. But despite all this, I am happy with my job.

However, no amount of contentment can withstand the global temptations that call out to us. I may sound materialistic, but I am also realistic: the voices of the British pound, the euro, and the almighty dollar seduce us like siren songs. And then there’s the opportunity to escape from our overcrowded and unstable country.

Fortunately, my present work options are something I can handle. I can make decisions, stick to them and not lose my focus until I achieve my goals.

But love … now that is my weakness, the one thing that could turn a rain shower of decisions into a tornado of questions and confusion.

I was like a train before she came into my life, chugging along, earning my keep, and working on my dreams. There were bumps and stopovers along the way, but my train kept its path. That was until she burst into my life, like a comet leaving behind a trail of stardust and the scent of flowers.

Let’s call her “Female 2.” She lives in the condominium unit next to mine.

But I am in a relationship; in fact, I am engaged. I couldn’t ask for anything more from my current relationship. My fiancée is beautiful and sexy, and she has been my best friend for the past five years. She is my support system, my dependable ally as I navigate the ever-changing waters we call life. She provides the companionship, the balance, the stability, the sanity to my charge head-on, full-steam ahead personality. It would be an understatement to say I cannot live without her.

But Female 2 is a goddess, a pure angel of love and beauty. Her fair face seems to radiate like the brightest sunshine. Her laughter sounds like the tinkling of the finest Austrian crystal. And there is her scent. I consider myself an eloquent man, but even I run out of words to describe her delicious scent. I do not know what perfume she uses (frankly, I do not want to know to preserve the mystery), but it becomes an irresistible magic potion when mixed with the salt, sweat and pheromones on her silky skin.

Female 2 has a gaggle of admirers. But ironically, men are intimidated by her beauty and they are scared to take their admiration to the next level and court her. And this is where my charge head-on personality enters the picture and complicates matters.

I loved Female 2 the very first moment I saw her, and no engagement ring or wedding planner can stand in my way. She is like the medieval city of Byzantium: enchanting, dazzling, beautiful. Her heart is a worthy prize for a brave conqueror.

Like any prize, Female 2’s heart is protected like a mighty fortress. I began to storm the fortress with the boldness and determination of a general. And now her defenses are crumbling.

But she will not surrender because I am still engaged. She says she “likes me very much, but only to a certain extent” (whatever that means).

I am torn and confused. What hellhole did I dig myself into? On one hand is my love for my fiancée; on the other, is my yearning for Female 2.

I need help. I am not a playboy. Problems like these rarely come my way. I enjoyed it at first. But now it has become a source of headaches, and definitely heartaches if I allow myself to let my emotions rule me. What was intended to be a fun flirtation has led to some heavy consequences.

What happens next? I honestly do not know. Maybe I will just indulge myself. I have always been a good boy who thinks carefully. Maybe I will just give in and be human.

What shall I do? It seems that in matters of the heart, having two choices is one choice too many.

Ross Anthony Cleofe, 27, is a nurse in a hospital in Manila.