We all want it, even if we do not exactly know what to do with it. Most of us think that we want it for all the right reasons. Some of us wants it just simply because we think we deserve it. True love with the right person would be the ultimate gift of joy. But with the wrong one would simply be a most pitiful waste.
Some would say that we will not be drained of emotions, although I have to say that when my last relationship ended four years ago, I was emotionally drained. And for a long while, even after I was past the sadness, that imaginary reservoir in my head that was supposed to store all my ability to love someone other than my family member was virtually empty. It would be too much if I said that I swore off love thereon after. Come to think of it, I was never aware of any potential men. Is it because there was none, or because there were a few but I was unwilling to see? It doesn’t really matter, because I have always preferred to wait for everything. Or at least pretend to do so.
Perhaps I am perceived as that sort of person who is open-minded and not easily offended by casual remarks. That is the case most of the time. I wear my heart on my sleeve, oh, such a drama queen that I am. I have tried to hide my feelings, but when I do that, after a while, I would feel like I would burst at the seams. When I am upset over something, people will know. Because they are used to seeing the sunshine in me, I suppose? I have noticed that when I don’t smile for a few minutes, people will ask what the matter is.
People seem to think they can come up to me and say anything and won’t get a nasty slap on the face. I appreciate that and I don’t think I want it to be any other way.
About a month ago, when I went to the usual place where I have my lunch, one of the patrons stopped me on the way to the buffet table. He started out with this,
“When are you planning to apply for a transfer?” That is such a typical question I get, day in, day out. So I am used to it.
“Oh, didn’t you know already? I am planning to retire here.” A joke that I hope would turn out to be a reality.
“That is wonderful news!” his companion chimed in.
“Of course it is. I love this place. I just hope no one would move me to another place without my knowing.” Another joke.
“They won’t do anything like that I am sure.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Yes, yes, I am very sure. But you know, no matter how long you are planning to stay here, please, please, please do not spend it all alone. It would be such a waste.” There it is; the bomb.
“Ah, that is true.” And while I was mulling over a good come back, he slipped in another.
“Why aren’t you married yet?”
Actually, I was not offended by the question. Even his statement before that was a compliment; people at the Jabatan cares enough about me to talk about my state of being single and aspirations to spend the rest of my life in a secluded area, all alone with all my spark and fire and wit, all alone, is deemed such a waste that should be counteracted. Oh, the glory of such attention. And having been asked that question so many times before makes me immune to its implications. Besides, I know they mean well.
“I am too picky.” Which is true. I do not want to be another statistic in the huge number of unhappy desperate married women.
“It is not wrong to be choosy, but when the time comes, I hope you will jump at the chance.”
“Don’t worry, I will.” I am not sure I would do anything like that but if that would make him happy and let me get to that buffet table, then that is what I am going to say.
“Okay, all the best, and please remember what I said.”
Being married should be a wonderful thing. Being married to the man you love with all your being and who loves you just as much and maybe just a smidgen more would be even better. So why would I want to settle for the average run-of the-mill man out of fear of complications? I want more out of my life-time commitment. I want it all. So if I have to wait longer than the rest, I will. And if there is no one, all I have done is waste my ovum, and I will just die a single old woman. Har har har.
What would be the ideal man? Simply put, I want a man who would inspire awe in me. Someone with intelligence. Someone I can look up to. Someone I can respect. He can teach me a lot of things and won’t be afraid of me lashing out at him when he tells me I am mistaken about something because I always do that out of habit, not because he is any less human than the rest of the population. He should be able to see that underneath it all, he is my everything. He should also have a lot of patience, because I can be one stubborn mule. And he should be able to love me, love me, love me because I am sometimes a difficult person to love.
What is ideal in a marriage? I don’t know because I have never been in one. And the ones that I have been given the opportunity to glimpse into had been not up to par. I am sure they have done their best. I am just sad that some good people I know end up having to suffer in a marriage such as theirs when I always like to think that they could do better than that. I am not saying that they should get divorced and start from scratch with someone new. But asking them to realize what they are doing to each other is emotionally and physically damaging so they need to get off their ass and fix things so they can have a better life together, would be too much, since I am unmarried myself.
Sure, I can say all this things and grin because I have never been there. But then, I have been a part of my parents’ marriage. While it was not all a bed of roses for them, at least they worked hard to make it work. They talked. Well, some of the time they yelled and shouted and called each other names, but then that is what worked for them. I would like to find out what works for me. But I guess I have scared off a potential over something silly; I cared too much about him that I started worrying after just a few hours and said some things in a harsh way. I hurt his feelings and now he is having second thoughts about me or has actually decided to cash in the chips. I don’t know. It’s been a couple of months since we spoke on the phone.
While I do not think that caring for someone is a bad thing, I do have to make it a point that it is not normal to worry about someone the way I did after just a few hours and hurting his feelings would definitely not drive the ball home. I could have been more subtle. Poor guy.
He must have thought I was a total psycho for being the way I was. I am so not. If I had known he left his cellphone at home I would not have worked myself up over that. Honest! My mother is the big worrier. I am her daughter but I do not want to have that part of her in me. But she is a great mother. I love her.
I can’t change what has happened but I can make sure to be better in handling these things in the future with him or some other person. It is just another experience to make me better in my people skills.
I always learn something best when I have to do it the hard way.