this is what i usually look like on february 14th
It’s the day before valentines day and I’m hyperventilating. i can just feel the bile rising. many people don’t want to participate in this archaic tradition. girls are given red roses, and some confess their love. it’s all just a ruse used to stroke our egos. i remember the looks on the faces of the girls that got red roses delivered to their classes on valentines day. superiority. that’s what they felt. because they knew that they were wanted. and the rest of us would just sit there hoping that one rose would come our way. even while i was hiding behind a book i too wanted a rose. just like everyone else but wasn’t about to lose face in front of rose getting girls.
i wasn’t popular, i didn’t wear a short skirt. and in the looks department, i was average. even average girls would like to know that someone is thinking of her. but looking back on those high school days when i was trying to out grow puberty. i can’t say that i’ve ever really played the LOVE GAME. sorry lady gaga.
i’ve liked many boys and men over the years but i have to admit that i’m xx years old and i have yet to CONFESS my love to anyone. i thought that once you’ve hit twenty one you’d have fallen at least once once in love.
every other girl on valentines day
nope not me. i always have to be different. like salmon, i swim against the stream.
lets start at the very beginning.
first love: i was six when i first met david. he was fair, had green eyes and black hair. david wasn’t the tallest boy in class but he sure was the prettiest. I think from a very early age it was clear that i was superficial. he was like an angel walking on earth. most girls my age were very open about their feelings and vied for his attention. i chose to play in the sandbox. a few weeks before the school closed, the teacher told the class that david would be moving to a knew town. i was gutted. i couldn’t imagine coming to school and not being able to see him. he hugged every girl, saying goodbye to each of them. but i was the only one to be kissed on the cheek. that was the first time i knew what it felt like to have my heart skip a beat. even though i knew i wouldn’t see him again, i couldn’t admit my feelings or give him a proper goodbye. i wouldn’t say that this is my biggest regret but i think it marked the beginning of my wimp years.
it was many years before i again dared to venture in the rough sea of love. this time i was 11. after my parents divorce. we relocated to a new town and i started going to a new school. thats when i met sebastian. he had dark brown hair, intense brown almost black eyes, and vampiric canines. on valentines day, i discovered that he was the most popular boy in school. sebastian and his best friend Rob would compete to see who would get the most love letters. for the entire day they would receive boxes upon boxes of love letters and cards from girls form different grades. rob was far more social than sebastian and friendlier. but it was sebastian’s silent beauty that made him irresistibly alluring. where rob was a flirt, sebastian was indifferent. no one knew who he liked but what i knew for sure is that he hated me.
what was an eleven year old to do when the boy she liked hated her guts and called her cactus butt (reference:lion king. it still doesn’t make sense to me) whenever the opportunity presented itself. there was only one thing left to do. make sure that he knew she hated him right back. when he said that he liked subzero from mortal combat, i’d snort and say subzero was boring. when he bought the latest bomber jacket. i snorted and told him that he looked stupid in it. he’d antagonised me when i played soccer with the boys during lunch, so i kicked the ball in his face. I’m not sure when our hate changed to mutual respect perhaps it was when i score that beautiful goal during a game against the seventh grade boys team or when i let him cheat off my test that time he forgot to study. by the end of primary school, i was closer to him than any other girl in our class. but even then i couldn’t confess. not when he shone so bright and i… well i was just me.
lets fast forward through high school… a time when i spent most of my time reading harry potter and fantasising about orlando bloom. there was only one boy worth mentioning. he wore a speedo during a swimming and that image will forever be burnt into my retina. when my friend tried to introduce him to me… i guess my fear of shaking hands with a speedo wearing god triggered my hypothalamus and sent me running!
not my proudest moment
i quickly learnt that in the LOVEGAME, i played to win. i couldn’t handle being around good-looking guys. they made my hypothalamus act up and sent me running for the hills. so i steered clear of anyone who made me react that way. it wasn’t the most mature choice but that was the only way i could survive. to run is to lose. and i planned to win. so i decided to look for guys that had ok-ish faces and seemed interesting enough to date.
the first was an older guy in one of my university classes. he wasn’t good looking, and was too skinny for my taste. but it was clear by the end of our first year that he wouldn’t mind hooking up me. that relationship dragged on for two more years. both of us not fully committed but too insecure to leave. that was until i met my first boyfriend. he was ok looking. most importantly he was interested in me. and we had crazy sexual chemistry. but there was something missing. i didn’t know what it was but it was there. we broke up after a few months because i cheated on him and he was too embarrassed to introduce me him to his friends. these relationships were bound to end. yes, i wasn’t sitting at home in a towelling gown guzzling down a tub of ice cream. but i felt like at least i’d be able to feel something while watching a drama. instead of passing time in a boring relationship.
there was no passion.
some heavy petting does not count as passion.
love should burn like a fire.
those are famous words said by marianne. i know that marianne in sense and sensibility chased after willoughby and had her heart broken. but didn’t she get her happy ending? she got colonel brandon. (I’m for any ending where you can spend the rest of your life with alan rickman. he looks damn good in black). yes she was stupid for chasing after the wrong guy and making herself so sick that she almost died. but she had balls. falling in love is scary. you are baring your heart and you wont know if the other person will treat it carefully or just trample all over it. i know i don’t have the balls to bare my heart. thus leading to question: did i really win in dating ok guys? what is it to win?
i didn’t date anyone else after them. was it by choice? perhaps. and then i moved to japan. the land where men happily confessed to be hentais and only wanted to date cute girls. coming to japan i found out that its pretty easy to be left the fuck alone. guys are too scared of foreigners. i can only assume it because a) we aren’t as petite as japanese girls or b) they fear speaking english or c) their mating rituals are different from ours. maybe what they classify as wooing looks like the macarena to me. i was fine for a while. but i made one miscalculation. my bucket list…
i have no idea how ‘get a japanese boyfriend’ made it on my list beside ‘see miyajima shrine’, ‘go to a host club’, and ‘pretend to be a samurai in kyoto’. but it was there. after many failed attempts to get japanese guys’ attention. i went back to feigning ignorance. when a lovely man caught my eye.
well, hello!!
he was funny, and would try to speak to me even though i struggled to speak japanese and his english was nonexistent. i liked how his cheeks would always turn rosy when he tried to speak english. and how he would gush over his niece and show me pictures of her. i liked looking at his broad back and fantastic ass. and that he’d always laugh when i greeted him by just saying ‘yo’ like a high school boy. i just wanted someone to perv on. someone to look forward to seeing but you can fall so easily without even being aware of it. before i knew it, i was dreaming of how he’d hold my hand. where we would go on our first date. and i wondered if he thought i was pretty.
it freaked me out a bit.
my hypothalamus was working in over drive again.
i needed to escape danger.
warning!
warning!
i wanted to run.
i really did but i wanted to get to know him more. i wanted to make him laugh. i wanted to see those cheeks flush every time i’d tease him. (that does sound a bit sadistic) i was over come with greed. a greed i had never known. i wanted it all. is this what it felt like to be IN LOVE? this idea of love almost made me laugh. it was so stupid. these feelings i had felt ridiculous. every time he said my name, my insides would freeze. the old me would say that i lost in this LOVEGAME. i didn’t know what to do with these feelings. i felt like ariel when she first realised that she no longer had a tail but two legs.
how do i use these?
but before i learnt how to stand, the rug was pulled right out from under me. (sorry for the cheesy pun).
Sebastian, “Just look at her! On legs! On human legs!”
i forgot to ask the most important question before i dove head over heels.
and the answer is: yes.
yes, he has a girlfriend.
of course someone as wonderful as him has a gf. she knew him. he laughed at her jokes. I’m sure his cheeks flushed whenever he looked at her. and she had it all. the way hollywood describes being heartbroken, i thought it would feel more broken. maybe even it would make a weird cracking noise. thats what i thought. my heart didn’t feel broken. more hollow. like there was a gaping hole in my chest where the wind would blow reminding me that nothing was there.
one can’t really describe heartbreak. twilight tried to do it by showing bella sitting at a window as the seasons passed her by.
bella just looks constipated to me
i wish heartache felt like that. if any imagery could describe what it feels like to be heartbroken, i would say it felt like being a wounded dog struggling to get up. blood gushing form your chest, as it dragged its battered leg trying to find some place safe to rest. falling out of love does feel like you’re about to die. but every morning you wake up and realise that you’re still alive. one day you wake up and realise that it doesn’t hurt as much. someday in the not so distant future you look across the table and think: why didn’t i notice you before? do i like you? you won’t know. but he presents possibility. it could lead to something wonderful or to a little more heartache. i don’t know how i feel just yet. the important thing is that i am here. a little more battered than before. maybe you will try to be brave and give him handmade chocolates. even though you don’t believe in valentines day.
Die Autocorrect 