Should I Trade My Dreams For Love?
“But I know how men are!”
“They pretend to be your friends but all they want is to get close to you!”, he said with the same conviction I was beginning to recognise as his means to manipulate me.
The matter-of-fact way in which he said some of these things made me wonder if I were from a different timeline sometimes.
“Really? That short! Why does any other man need to see so much skin? I mean I think you look pretty in that long skirt too, so why the short one?”
Each day was one new challenge.
“Smoke? No way Nisha! That’s not what a woman does. I don’t want you to smoke!”
“How late? What kind of a company makes a woman work past 10pm! This is ridiculous.”
“Why is an office party mandatory? I think you should put your foot down and say no to this nonsense!”
Each attempt at a “But I want to” would be strongly met with a “I am pretty sure, you don’t.”
You know, the best part is that anybody who would hear these conversations would naturally picture a rather abusive relationship. One where there is a dominating male figure who dictates what is to be done to a woman who is perceived as meek and helpless and most importantly non independent.
Wrong.
I am none of those things.
4 years since I walked out of that door and yet sometimes I can’t shake it off that a once fierce dreamer and ambitious independent woman could be ensnared so effectively in that web. A web where her wings were left intact but her foot was always on a leash. Maneuvering. Guiding. Controlling.
And this is why I need to lend clarity. For my sake.
I was just madly in love and the one that was hopelessly trying to avert arguments and misunderstandings to ensure the longevity of a relationship I thought would last a lifetime. I was independent. I had a job that paid me really well. I was working towards accomplishing my passion. I have some amazing friends both men and women, who I know are definitely not romantically interested in me.
I knew whatever my partner was trying to do at the time was absolutely wrong.
But why did I put up with it for 3 years?
It’s simple. I was in love. I was in love enough to think my dreams weren’t big enough in comparison to our relationship. I was in love enough to think that there is nothing wrong in me fixing the length of my skirt, he only says that out of love. I was in love enough to think that maybe, just maybe, he is right about my friends. I was in love enough to think that real love is about sacrifices, even if it means not pursuing your dream job.
I learnt to sacrifice. A lot of things I regret today stemmed from that era.
But each day, my end of the sacrifices mounted. His remained at a glorious zero. Mine hit the roof and he didn’t budge. A room couldn’t contain my efforts and he did not so much as flinch. Every day, one new demand, one new request, one new promise of love eternal.
You know it’s like this. Somebody serves you tea. It’s really good for a few days. Then they do something deliberately yet slowly, something changes. One day it’s the sugar the other day it’s less tea leaves. One day it’s the water and the next day it’s the milk. And since the change comes so gradually yet steadily, you grow used to drinking that not so good tea. Until the tea becomes really bad. But now it’s too late. Irreversible.
It’s this way that this relationship broke me. The pieces of which I am still gathering to find an identity I lost all those years ago. I quit my beloved job, I lost a few friends, I don’t own short clothes. And now I am slowly picking up from where I left things. Slowly.
But let me tell you how it ended. You know that threshold? The saturation. You can’t take it anymore. No more bad tea for me. No. Thank you very much.
That moment arrived. It was in the middle of a conversation. A heated one, where he decided it was time we marry and move back with him to his parent’s house.
“What about my job?”
“Quit. “
“What? What am I supposed to be? Unemployed?”
“Yes. My mother is. I would love for you to be the wife that cooks for me and waits for me at home. We eat together. We take vacations every two months. And I will love you unconditionally for the rest of my life,” he said in the same matter-of-fact tone I had dangerously gotten used to.
“But I have my dream job that I need to pursue..”, I protested.
“Look. I don’t think it will matter in a few years anyway. So why can’t you just let go of it right now itself?”
I am assuming he meant childbirth. Anyway. I had reached my saturation right then. I was with a man for 3 years, a man who did not understand what my dream meant to me? I stayed with a man who wanted to limit me for his ideals and his stance of regular? Did he love me at all? If he did, then what kind of love is that, that binds you and controls you?
And that’s the day, I walked out of that old, musty house that reeked of my failures and my manipulations. I walked out to find myself once again.
Was that really me, I wonder sometimes.
