I’ve been gifted–or probably cursed–with an incredibly wild imagination, it’s terrifying.
It really bothered me when I realized that I spend too much time creating a world beyond fantasies than actually living reality as I see it. I thought that I might have gone insane due to the amount of stories I can come up in my head. My tendency to drift from one idea to another is very disturbing bordering on pathological. I can never escape my cinematic views of things happening around me–I don’t think I can? I don’t think I want to. Because my thoughts are happy and blissful and perfect. And I’m a true romantic, I live for happy endings.
But life happens.
It’s absolutely inspiring and admirable when a person lands the moment when everything falls into place, when everything feels right, when everything makes sense. What we, poor and hopeless dreamers swimming in mud of doubt, fear and indecisiveness, don’t know—or rather ignore—is what happens after that nirvana-like phase. It seems that after we hear the happy ending, we don’t seek what goes beyond it. I can’t help but wonder, since I’m still suffering the bitching quarter-life crisis and being the lonely, single girl in her twenty-something, what comes after you’ve found happiness?
My friend and I were at a birthday dinner, and ever so thanklessly, I’m the only single-girl in the group. I’ve been to different countries and have met amazing people (who were all or have been in relationships, by the way); when the relationship-talk begins, I feel so unhinged, I can just leave and nobody will notice. I can’t even begin to explain how that feeling–for lack of a better description–terribly sucks.
It’s not because I’m jealous that I’m not in a relationship. I’ve seen my friends fall and break due to premature relationships that were plagued with bickering, disrespect, tears, self-pity and hatred to get myself into yet another messy circumstance. I’m, in fact, in the middle of figuring my life out and relationship-complications are the last thing I need. I’m feeling a little bitter because of my nasty habit of comparing myself with the people around me and what they have that I don’t.
Anyway back to the birthday dinner, the conversation suddenly morphed into marriage and kids—which, by definition, made me uncomfortable. I sighed audibly and looked away toward the Mekong River concealed in the darkness, my friend nonchalantly quipped,
“You are too serious. Just have a boyfriend, don’t think about forever.”
Which, I think, is a very good point considering the shelf-life of relationships nowadays. Bbbbut no, I just had to speak up and wave the vulnerable flag to the rest of the Dating World.
“I don’t want just a boyfriend, I want a real relationship, someone I’d spend my life with—and finally be happy.” I argued.
My friend shrugged. “You think that once you get into a relationship, it’s always happy?”
Damn. I thought.
Whenever my imagination runs wild and I think about the greatest love stories my mind can conjure, the all-too-giddy and exhilarating feeling of being in love only lasts after my gorgeous and intelligent leading man says those three words. Then the screen blacks out, credits roll-in and I’m transported back to my school backlog.
Even if I try to think of a scenario after the cheesy-confession that leaves me gushing and cringing at the same time, the romantic feel goes away without even trying. And I am scared as hell that it just might be damn close to the real thing.
While I have no interest in divulging the gory details of my non-existent dating life because of the obvious variability of it all, I could tell you that the relationships I know are shaped from romantic comedies and chic literature I’ve indulged myself all these years, therefore aggravating my perverted view of happy endings. Even after all the crashes and burn I’ve seen and heard, I still believe in meeting that one true love. Stranger things have happened–a happy and healthy relationship shouldn’t be an exception.
I have no idea if I’m ever going to find out what it’d be like–relationships, I mean. I guess, this is the reason why I’m still looking forward to happy endings. Maybe, just maybe, there’s also a person searching for me. He just doesn’t know it yet.