Use “gayuma” (love potion) to attract someone

Liza: Marco, don’t laugh, okay? I think I’m going to try gayuma.

Marco: (grinning already) I said I wouldn’t laugh… but my face might betray me. Gayuma? The love potion?

Liza: Yes! My cousin in the province swears by it. She said her friend sprinkled it on her crush’s drink, and boom—three months later, they’re dating.

Marco: Three months later? Liza, that’s not “boom,” that’s called time and maybe a lot of chatting on Messenger.

Liza: You don’t know that. She said the albularyo mixed herbs and prayed over it. Very powerful.

Marco: Or very persuasive. Think about it—if someone believes they’ve used a love potion, they’ll act more confident. Smile more. Talk more. Confidence is attractive. No magic needed.

Liza: You always say that. But how do you explain that people have believed in gayuma for generations? Our ancestors weren’t stupid.

Marco: I’m not saying they were stupid. They just didn’t have psychology or neuroscience back then. They explained attraction with what they had—rituals and stories.

Liza: Still, my aunt said someone used gayuma on her once. She felt “drawn” to the guy for no reason.

Marco: Feelings can be tricky. Ever heard of confirmation bias? If you’re told, “You were given gayuma,” your brain looks for signs to prove it’s true. Every smile suddenly feels magical.

Liza: So you’re saying my feelings are just my brain playing tricks on me?

Marco: Sometimes, yes. Like when you think your phone vibrated but it didn’t.

Liza: (laughs) Okay, that happens a lot. But what if gayuma really works? What if science just hasn’t caught up yet?

Marco: Then we should be able to test it. Same potion, different people, same result. But no controlled study has ever shown gayuma works better than normal flirting.

Liza: Science ruins everything romantic.

Marco: Not really. Science says attraction comes from shared values, familiarity, kindness, and timing. That’s still romantic—just less smoke and chanting.

Liza: But it’s harder. Gayuma feels… easier. Like the universe helping you.

Marco: Or like avoiding rejection. Which I get. Rejection hurts.

Liza: Exactly. What if I confess and he doesn’t like me back?

Marco: That’s scary, yes. But imagine this—if someone likes you only because of a potion, is that real love?

Liza: (quiet for a moment) When you put it that way… no.

Marco: Also, some people put weird stuff in gayuma. You could make someone sick. That’s not romantic—that’s a hospital bill.

Liza: Okay, okay, you win that point. I don’t want him falling in love and getting food poisoning.

Marco: Look, if you want a “gayuma,” I’ll give you one backed by science.

Liza: Oh? Doctor Marco has invented one now?

Marco: Step one: be yourself. Step two: talk to him. Step three: listen. Step four: laugh at his jokes—even the bad ones.

Liza: That sounds suspiciously like effort.

Marco: The most powerful magic there is.

Liza: (smiling) You’re annoying… but kind of convincing.

Marco: That’s my natural charm. No potion required.

Liza: Fine. I’ll skip the gayuma. But if this fails, I’m blaming science.

Marco: Deal. And if it works, you owe science a thank-you—and maybe me a coffee.

Liza: Make it milk tea. Even science can’t explain why I love that.

Marco: Some mysteries are allowed to remain.