Saturday, April 13, 2013

The One Where a Stranger Forces You to Ask the Hard Questions

It's a scene straight from Friends, except I was the outsider looking in.

I was seated in a coffee shop next to a group of female friends, who are in the process of consoling their recently dumped sister. Even if I didn't find their conversation interesting, it would have been impossible not to overhear. The girl wasn't exactly speaking softly. I could sense she was putting on a brave face, masking heartache with sardonic humor and a newly-found disdain for men, and perhaps she was speaking loudly so she could stop hearing a smaller voice somewhere telling her that she was indeed bleeding from the inside.Or that's just me and my psychobabble.

The whole scenario was easily set-up for a Chick-flick-esque male bashing session, but was saved by the lone voice of wisdom who asked a hard question just when everybody was ready to go Amazonian.

"Did you really see yourself marrying this guy anyways?"

And the all-too quick answer, was "No." and then a space of silence, followed by, "Well you know, those are not things you think about until later. You have to start from fun and then follow through."

They had further discussions on this, but my mind was already disengaged. I was too busy asking myself the same question and surprised that I found the girl's reply so completely opposite of how I think.

I have had small opportunities to just have fun when I was younger. I sometimes think if I toned down a bit on the weirdness and intellectual elitism, I might have had fun with a boy or two. Yes, even if I was as big as a whale, I knew I was cute, you know. Years of self-effacing doesn't necessarily mean I think I'm worthless.

But I didn't want to tone it down. I didn't want to lower my standards. Because I knew, I'm not built for casual relationships. I am one mother-effing romantic, and I will give it all I have, and understood that very few people could handle that. SO i have to find the real one. I knew I may make mistakes, but even the mistake should be as close to the real one. I don't say Right one, because, I think that's a Myth. But I do say Real One, because all I want is someone real who loves the real me too.

So when this guy presents himself, I didn't say, "Oh let's have fun first."

I barraged him with torrents of authenticity and waited for him to scream uncle.

The scream never came.

And after three years of torturing him, and receiving his increasingly authentic loving responses to my haranguing, I have an answer to the question too.

"Did you really see yourself marrying the guy anyway?"

Oh, yes. Now more than ever.

Thank goodness he doesn't read my blog though. :D I want to keep him in suspense, for as long as possible.

Hey, i didn't say i didn't like fun. I just think the fun comes after. Fun is best between two people who have found themselves in the middle of something real.


Sunday, May 20, 2012

That magical moment when you have run out of words to describe how much you love a person, and all you get are sensory cues:

Smell of brewed coffee.
Tree with a swing.
Strawberry Ice Cream.
a Blank Page.
Purple ribbons.
Velveteen stuffed toys.
Smell of fresh mown grass.

And everything else that you love without need of description, justification or excuses. You just do.

Wednesday, March 28, 2012

The Girlfriend Chronicles: Me Vs. The Extra Room

Here's the scenario:

What She Wants
At some point we got comfortable enough to talk about having a house of our own in the future. And in that illusory house, there is an extra room. It is a magnificent space which can be converted to anything we can afford. And since we were daydreaming, we were conveniently millionaires as well so sky is the limit.

Here's what she wants and he wants.

Yup. We've got a long way to go.
What He Wants

The Girlfriend Chronicles:Me Vs. Dana White

You so hot girl, they all lookin’! Everybody except your guy, that is, cos he can’t tear away his eyes from the TV. No, the 2-hour pampering and primping isn’t a waste; it’s just sorry fate that there’s a UFC fight on Balls TV today of all days.

 My nerdy elitist ass wasn’t prepared for the part UFC will play in a meaningful relationship. Where’s my quiet Sundays reading books together on a park bench? Where are the coffee shop nights where we dissect Thoreau and Nietzsche? Who the eff is Dana White? 

If I knew being bald and muscular with an affinity to wear one’s underwear with a belt will get this much of his attention, I wouldn’t have spent all that time and money making the Revlon saleslady over at Watson’s very happy. 

The first time it created conflict between us was when I was itching to go out and try a new restaurant but received a less than enthusiastic reply to the tune of, “Will I get back in time to watch UFC?” 

Of course, I took this to mean, “I prefer watching men naked but for their undergarments rub and touch each other violently and witnessing a broken arm, leg or, better yet, first blood instead of spending time with you.” 

Add PMS to the mix and you get one ape-shit-crazy-mad girlfriend. 

I was far from adorable that day, and I unwittingly broke a cardinal rule for men: giving them time and space to do their own thing. 

I have to give credit to the man for not expecting me to like what he likes; he allows me space and time to do my own thing. So, if I couldn’t beat it, and couldn’t join it, then let’s go Obama on it and talk compromise and protocol.  The result then is the laying down of basic rules for Dates with Dana White and His Unholy F*ck*n Crew. 

Rule Number 1 : At least one week prior notice through verbal and written communication if he would be unavailable due to UFC fever.

Rule Number 2: I will refrain from communicating with him during the fights (it’s a losing battle), but would require a text or a call if he’s done with his Testosterone Fix.

Rule Number 3: If I was in a good mood and he feels like company, he could watch UFC at my house, but don’t expect cuddling.

I can be a total Mary Poppins sometimes, with unrealistic views about how couples should spend time together. Totalitarian as it is, the abovementioned rules have helped us navigate the testy waters of our brain-vs-brawn interests as a couple, at least where Dana “Baldy” White is concerned. 

Are there other issues, aside from UFC?

Oh, boy, are there.

The Girlfriend Chronicles: The Language of Man

The Girlfriend Chronicles: Me vs. The Ideal Girlfriend