The One
it’s been close to a full year since my last serious (how serious does it get at 17 anyway?), stable long-term relationship. and i cant say that i’m griping about it.
in the past 11 months — less than that if you exclude the mandatory post-breakup attachment period — i’ve been having a lot of no-strings-attached fun, and i’m liking it a lot more than having a significant other that i have to check back with every 10 minutes or so. ‘true love’ and all that seems so faraway now and almost chidlishly idealistic. i’ve always known that this day would come, this day where my cynicism would start to eat away at all my seemingly utopian notions that are so centered around love and romance.
you know, the day i finally grow up.
earlier, i’d just finished watching America’s Next Top Model on Astro and it was very quiet once i turned off the tv. i got up and went to the kitchen to make myself a steaming warm mug of Milo, and then i went back to the couch. i sat down and looked around. and for a moment it all felt so weird. like some kind of deja-vu, but the opposite of it.
my couch has seen many guys. guys who usually make me my Milo after we plough through DVDs on my player. guys who give me backrubs and foot massages while i sit there and giggle. i’ve kissed all these guys. and even if only for a short while, they’ve all been a part of my life.
so i’m left asking myself, how come they havent been all that significant?
i’ve only had like maybe 3 ’serious’ relationships, with the longest lasting up to two years. and now that they’re all over, i realize that there wasnt really much to any of them. save for the initial early months, there was no spark, no fireworks, no life, no nothing in all of em. if i were to take out my diary from the past 5 years and read it i will find that nothing really jumps out at me and tells me that this particular relationship was a spectacular one that took my breath away.
it’s the same with the flings — meet up, kiss kiss, shopping, dinner, movies, kiss kiss, sweet nothings, okayy thanks bye. i cant think of any of them that really meant anything. i mean yes i know they’re not supposed to, but i dont even feel the need to call them up to say hi or anything. and that’s really quite sad.
people always ask why i havent gotten another boyfriend in the past few months. at first i thought, yea, stupid me, why havent i? why not just go steady at any given moment instead of fooling around and making my mom worry so much? but then i always answer my own question — because i think it’s a waste of time. i seriously hate wasting time no matter what reason it’s for, but that’s a blogpost for another day. okay lah i will be honest and say that a few of my past relationships i deem a complete and utter waste of my time, his time and my feelings. each time i emerged out of said relationships, i had always felt like i wanted to rip and crawl out of my skin, and curse myself for carelessly investing into nothing all those weeks or months or years that i will never ever get back now.
i donno. i think there’s a newly-grown bone in my body that says not to commit until i find someone who’s right for me, you know? and seeing how i’m so freakin picky, i will most probably never get married now, but .. yea a girl can still hope to find her One amidst all the fish in the sea :)
now who makes The Right One? i have a superficial list in the back of my head that i tattle off to people who ask. romantic, sweet, sensitive, intellectual, witty, deep, blablabla and a cute butt wouldnt hurt too. but really. let me tell you who he is ..
he has eyes so so deep that you could fall into them. they’re delicately framed with long eyelashes and are so much like windows of void that you feel just the slightest bit of vertigo everytime you stare into them. he has a strong defined jawline that clenches slightly when he’s angry. the subtlest hint of facial hair that’s so ticklishly cute when he kisses you. large hands with long fingers that find the right places on your body without any effort at all. dark hair that kisses the collar of shirt so endearingly, dark curly hair that makes you want to fall asleep in it.
pale lips that form an o of languid desire when you kiss him. eyebrows that knit together in uncertainty. the finest wrinkles at the corners of his eyes that tell tales of past experiences. a sharp nose. the smell of cologne.
when you dont call for a few days, he gets upset but tries not to show it. when he sees you laughing and being held by other guys, he gets upset but does not exert his authority over you. he sulks a little bit, but really just wants you to come home with him at the end of the day and wrap him in your arms in a big bear hug and a cute pout on your face that says i’m sorry, and it’s all really enough for him.
when he lies next to you, he doesnt sleep until you do. and when you finally do, he props himself up ever so slightly and watches you with curious, gentle eyes as you sleep. when you smile in your sleep, he smiles and touches you lightly with the back of his hand. when you talk and when you frown and when you toss and turn in your sleep, he gets wildly afraid and tries to comfort you back to peaceful slumber without waking you up. he listens to the sound of your breathing and thinks its the most magical thing he can ever hear, and he wants to loop it around his fingers and twirl them over and over again. then he kisses your neck and he falls asleep next to you.
he writes heartfelt poetry about you that he keeps hidden away in his notebook. those poems dont rhyme and they are dripping raw with his love for you and that’s the exact reason why he will never show them to you. he doesnt mention you in his friendster profile but he writes a song there and really, it’s all about you but of course you dont know, because it’s just another song from one of the stupid bands he listens to.
in his wallet he keeps a photo of you that he stole from your desk while you were in the shower. you always thought you lost that photo but it was hidden in the depths of his heart all this while. it’s a photo of you when you were just growing up, looking pretty awkward but still so beautiful in his eyes. to him, the hot photos of you in that little tube top taken at the club and the pictures you take of yourself in his car are no match for this one photo. this one photo stored secretly in his wallet that he takes out to look at every time you both have a fight.
he dreams of marrying you while he watches you pick out furniture for your new home. mentally, he makes notes of all the types of furniture you like so he knows what to get when you really do get married. then he slaps himself for thinking such lame thoughts. you’re such a pussy, he thinks to himself, and he’s so embarassed about it but really, deep down inside you are his wife.
sometimes when you argue, he knows you’re wrong but lets you win because he cant bear to see you cry. he buys you pretty flowers for no reason and sends them to you at school without a card. he loves it when you wear that lacey knee length white skirt because in it you look so beautiful. when he holds you he’s afraid to break you. and he wants to kiss you all the time. but will you get tired of his kisses?
he’s someone so unpredictable that you cant really read him no matter how hard you try. he goes into fits of anger and you never really understand why, but that’s why you wake up feeling like you want to learn something new about him everyday. he’s soft spoken, introverted yet extroverted, and he never shares his problems with anybody. he sees things in the strangest of ways but they are so refreshingly different. he’s artistic. he’s quiet. he’s a good listener.
and for some unexplainable reason, he’s the only one person you ever loved whom you love to take photographs of. when he’s sleeping amongst your white sheets, when he looks up at you from his guitar, when he turns around at the coffee pot, when he’s driving with his sunglasses on, when he falls asleep while tanning on the beach .. you cant help but take photographs of him. those polaroids that mean forever. you just want to. and you dont know why.
i think when i meet the one i want to love, it will be after i realize i cant stop taking photographs of him. i’ve never dated anyone whom i actually wanted to take photographs of.
Comments January 6th, 2006
