An Organised Romantic
Following the latest crash and burn I’ve been wondering why the hell I go waaaaay into the sunset. May be my heart is made of cheese. Urban Dictionary says, “Cheesy means something that is trying too hard to be good, basically something that’s supposed to be good but it isn’t and bad”. Do I try too hard to make something be good? Did not help that ‘organised’ me had a mental list and many boxes were ticked, some that weren’t even there. Did I conjure him up from my ‘future husband’ aspirations? Or am I bonkers?
I didn’t grow up with lovey-dovey parents. Seen them hold hands…can’t even remember an instance. They have always been more companions. In their own way, they’ve had their romantic moments — how they met when my mum became a nun (of all places?!), how they both went bright red when my dad gave her a peck on the cheek for a Christmas photo. May be its cultural, generational, to not be overt. As a result, I’ve always been a bit reserved with PDA’ing. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want it. I am totally up for being swooned.
Thinking back to growing up, my picture of what love is was a juxtaposition between my folks’ non-PDA companionship and overt idealised romances in films (the couple vs. the bad guys, from Robin Hood to Speed). I wasn’t one to have crushes on the main guys (and wondered if I was weird for not having posters up of heart-throbs) but now I think I have a pre-occupation with the idea of being in love and romance, of seeing love blossom. I’d use game cheats to get through the story quicker (oh Starcraft, you broke my heart when you took away Kerrigan from Raynor?! Why???!!!). It’s only in the past few years that I’ve begun to see how real love looks like, there’s no clear formula or set way of behaving (yes, go read the books ‘He’s just not that into you’, ‘Why men loves bitches’ blah blah blah, then burn them and start from square one). It’s messy, non-linear, couple vs. person 1 and person 2, i.e. person 1’s shit needs to fit around person’s 2’s shit, and person 2’s shit needs to fit around person’s 1’s shit, and that’s even before you take into account each other’s ‘lists’ and friends & family ‘lists’…and you think pandas have it hard.
What am I trying to say with this post? I ain’t got a clue what I’m doing or should be doing. It’s like a love career. No longer long-term, reliable or guaranteed. I’ve been thrown off that life conveyor belt enough times to know that ‘school -> university -> job -> marriage -> house -> kids -> sunset’ isn’t my path. I can’t organise my love life any more than I can organise my job life. Instead of one neat path from A to B, I’ve got loops and swirls all through the alphabet.