Since my last (and only)
break-up, a bit over four years ago, I would desist from whatever paths that would
possibly trail to any romantic correlation. This would include severing any
extended communication with an ‘admirer’ after a night of forbidden fun.
Hence,
my friends would come to stamp me as “emotionally unavailable” in their
attempts to understand my disinterest in relationship prospects.
In actuality, I dreaded
having to share emotions with/for anyone as I, in this regard, am abundant and unselfish
and that being the power you do not want to be very trusting with (Capricorns,
hands up).
A little over eight months
ago I was formally introduced to a charming stranger who would, although
involved at the time, become my whole world (in a matter of days, I say).
Now, I am not anyone to voluntarily
become the much resented ‘third wheel’ to a couple, however, as cliché as these
things turn out, the heart did the most thinking. I would find that my
resistance would fail me as every day he seemed to thrill me differently and I
was imminently discovering bits of myself in him: silly-hearted, broken and
hopelessly in love.
It would take a month for
his then relationship to amicably end (I swear I had nothing to do with it). On
the time leading up to their inevitable break-up I realised that my excitement
towards being his new uncontested lover was slowly deflating. This came after numerous
forced self-confrontations centering on whether, after all these years, was I
truly ready to commit to someone (being that or the high way)? Was he honestly
as into this or could he be busking on some high level infatuation with me? Is
this even safe?
I finally gave in to the
chance when he proposed our first date. Days with him were nothing short of
blissful and I reveled in knowing that when apart, he longed for me as much as
I did for him, if not more. I recalled the final line from the last text my ex sent
me when we broke up, “…I hope the next one treats you better than I ever could”. If I’d love him
again for anything it would be his charitable hopes for me.
Finally, day dreaming was a
lot dearer trait and less mystifying as he would, unrelentingly, take up the dreamer
role while I held back not to seem silly, chuckling internally.
These ambitions
would be painted along the back drop of a future together with the frequent
reminder that life would be that much unimaginable without the other.
I had
found a love I could let loose around: he made me fall in love with the idea of
love with him and only him.
The one person I would let stare at every bit of my
body I wasn’t particularly fond of (the corns on my toes >.<). I felt complete
and enough, there could never be a flaw so blinding of my true self, who he madly
loved back.
The fact that we had mutual
friends would make it that much interesting, whether it came to petty arguments
or just plain fun, it was always better with the bunch.
Along with every new love, behold, numerous certain
realization that occasionally raise the question of whether sticking around really
is worth it. As in the words by Elise (Insidious,
Chapter 3): “Love is just delayed
pain…They’ll leave you anyway”. For a less devastating reason than hers,
obviously, of losing her soulmate to a depression propelled suicide, mine was
that the one person I vowed to love was slowly unbecoming in what I had hoped
him to be.
Feeling failed, I would
resist doing anything to reverse this. If anything, the idea of reaching out for a resolution struck hardest at my pride
but for ‘unworldly reasons (known only to him and I), I forced myself to also realize
that it was only the very pride that I had to lose and nothing more valuable. To also realize that should we have a chance further than
this, It weighs half on me to make it work as much as I’d like for it to and to
only hope that this decision will be a reward to the two of us in the future.
Today
(sometime back in March), on my second day of being “separated” (whatever that means) I am content in knowing that for one, I could love thoroughly and
whole-heartedly and whatever the odds may be, I am/was with the best man.
