Dating in 2016

Last year, I got out of my first relationship. I’m not even going to talk about it again, because at this point everyone knows it was gut wrenchingly painful. And then, earlier this year I met a guy. If my first boyfriend taught me what is love, he taught me how to love. It was one of those plain, silly romances – holding hands and everything. We got drunk and danced with each other, neither of us great at it. But then we had to address this thing called distance.

That’s the thing about dating currently. It seems like the world is so connected, so modern. It isn’t that difficult to date someone far away, is it? All you must do it acquaint yourself with Skype and know the time zones. But it doesn’t work out that way. I knew better. And so, even though I spent nights crying myself to sleep, I decided not to go ahead with a relationship. And exactly one year after ending my long relationship, I was there again. Heartbroken, confused and vulnerable.

Dating shouldn’t have to be very hard, and movies would like to convince you it is not. You just find someone you love and then work things out. They always work out, always. And if not, it’s not the end. You just keep going at it, and get your Rachel anyway. But, darling, life isn’t a brilliantly written sitcom. Only if it were, huh?

It’s so messy, because you must figure out what everyone wants? Does he want to talk to me? Is it because I’m his project partner or because he finds me interesting. God, what if he doesn’t have the same principles as I do? What if he wants to get married in three weeks, or just wants a one night stand? Did he date someone I know, would I be a jerk asking him out? How do I ask him out? What if he says no? What if he says yes? What is this? Are we dating, are we in a relationship, is it official, is it exclusive?

Suddenly, liking or loving someone has become more complicated than it should be. Perhaps it always was, and I was ignorant to the fact. But the fact that so many would be aggressive and disrespectful absolutely baffles me. The fact that my contact details are stolen and my inbox is spammed irritates me. The fact that my ex’s best friend would stoop down to the extent of asking for my photos and number (probably without letting his buddy know) like an entitled being makes me feel sick.

When did it become alright to betray a friend for some girl’s number, when did become okay to send unsolicited dick pics, when did it become okay to call me your “love” in the first text to me? There are so many things that don’t sit right with me. And perhaps I’m wrong about a few of them, and there is a good possibility that I am over thinking at least in part. There is no way my paranoia could all be justified, right? But then, I look around at the 20-somethings and all of them are struggling to comprehend how all of it works out.

Love is primal, but modern dating is not. It is a royal mess, a web of intricacies I can’t seem to unwind without completely destroying it. Or, I am just lazy and tired of failing and being disappointed, over and over again.

I don’t think I’m cut out for relationships anymore. There’s just way too many complications than I can handle. For heaven’s sake, I can’t follow a recipe with more than 3 steps. How do you expect me to figure out my way in this labyrinth of opinions and tags and social stigmas?

And so, here I am. Dating is beyond my capabilities.

My wish for you

You told me that you don’t think you’ll ever love someone.

I wish I could change that. I wish you knew how it was to love, to love someone until it seems like it would be physically impossible to love her more, and then love her a tad bit more. I really hope you find someone who makes you want to get up every day and makes you stop in your tracks every single time you think of her.

Maybe then you’ll understand what it is like to love. When her favourite colour is the one you adorn your canvas with, when her voice is the one you hear all the time and you think you might just go crazy. When she has on the outfit you love, and you can’t resist looking at her until everything fades away. The way she scrunches her nose at kittens or sneezes when she wakes up, you will adore all of that and more.

You will find that love is gentle and fierce. That she might seem so fragile when she tells you about that childhood bully but so brave when she helps you confront your fears. And some nights you might have it rough, some days you might argue and refuse to talk like the stubborn individuals that you are. But at the end, you both will meet again at an amusement park and scream your problems out and go home with three tubs of ice cream.

That someone who might make getting old and wrinkly seems not that bad of a deal, considering you’ll have her by your side. She will make you watch the horror movies that she likes, and maybe you both will equally suck at a sport. And perhaps you’ll pick up each other’s gross habits, and not really mind it, because now you know it’s something so special only between you two.

And maybe it’ll last forever. And maybe it’ll break. Maybe you will have your heart crushed over, and it will feel like colliding suns and collapsing moons. You will be miserable and cook her favourite meal, hoping she comes home and grins like nothing ever went wrong. Maybe you’ll spend countless nights at bars and wander about the lonely roads, taking risks because nothing matters anymore. Or you might just lock yourself up and cry, cry until you drown in yourself.

All of this, just my tender wish. That you love again. That you live again.

Then you’ll know how I feel about you.

Moving on

It was about this time, last year, that I broke up with my first love. Two years and more of a relationship, of talking almost every single day, until one of us fell asleep. That was what we had, and it was gone, instantly. Looking back, maybe it was inevitable.

Both him and I know the reasons for the breakup, and both of us have slightly different versions. Today, I’m not here to prove myself right. Because what happened, happened. What was said and done, is exactly that, in the past. We both broke down and cried, drowned our sorrows in alcohol and woke up in utter misery. We both wondered what would come next, how we would survive it.

He was my person. He was the person I told about my dreams and my lectures, how a teacher was completely unfair and how the taxi driver was such a humble human being. He told me about football, and I barely ever understood anything. But I saw the passion, and I enjoyed hearing him get excited about a match. Before going to sleep, I wished his team won. And sometimes we would text in the middle of the night or early in the morning about how the clouds were so fluffy. That was my life, and it was suddenly gone.

It hurt, God it hurt. I cried myself to sleep for weeks and almost diagnosed myself with clinical depression (note to self: only because you study psychology and know the DSM criteria doesn’t mean you get to label anyone, even yourself, with a disorder.) I didn’t think I would ever be just as happy again, or even look at someone the way I looked at him. I didn’t think there would be a person I cared about as much as I cared about him, or talk to the way I talked to him. I didn’t think I could be myself without him.

Some words were exchanged over the months. Some good, some brutal. Most of all, though, they got me closer to closure every single time. Because every single time a call went bad, ended up in yelling and accusations, I knew it was better for the both of us to go our separate ways. And so I booked my flight all the way to Zambia, just a country below his, using up the money I wanted to spend to see him. Because I wanted to get away and experience life for myself, for once, be free.

It might have been the best thing I ever did. Because I flew over his country, and I gazed down from my flight. I was the closest to him, but I didn’t end up crying. I did want to see him, in some corner of my heart, I was hoping we get to keep atleast one promise. But the thing is, It only bothered me for two days and then I let go.

And I met this guy, this amazing guy who was nothing like him. He wasn’t into football but he was into mainstream music. He had tattoos and barely ate. But he was also the kind who would wrap his arms around my waist when a drunkard made me uncomfortable while trying to flirt his way into my pants. He would make sure a car doesn’t hit me as I tried to navigate the roads of Livingstone. He was the kind of guy who would kiss me on the street and drop me home, and wait until I was safely inside the gate. He would splash water all over me and try to startle me, and fail every single time. I met him. I may have fallen in love. I don’t even know.

But now, one year from my first breakup, I know I can make it through. I would never want to live alone, but I can. I know I am strong enough to face my biggest demons all by myself. I also know it’s okay to be a little scared. It’s okay to ask for help from friends, and even family if need be. It’s okay to lose sight and have a bad week, wanting to spend all my days in bed. Because I know, I can always get back up.

Reflection

I found this in my notes today. Just one of those post-heartbreak kind of rants.

The truth is that I was vulnerable,

And you were so right for me,

like the breeze bringing me relief

from the sun that burned my skin and soul

I enjoyed your presence,

Thought, you brought along spring,

I felt my heart heal, forget the misery

and then your beautiful hands,

they wrapped around me like a shield

Our love was strong, against the world

There were drizzles on some days

but rainbows always came along,

But then the rains turned into hurricanes

the eye nowhere to be seen

the wreck that was left behind, I tried to fix

didn’t realize, sometimes it’s wiser to leave

it was a little too late when I woke up

for we both were already living a nightmare

20th of April

This day meant the world to me. I remember what happened three years ago, today. It was probably one of the most important decisions of my life that I made, on 20/04/2013. Till yesterday, I thought today was going to hurt. A lot. I assumed the memories and regrets would consume me, but guess what?

I’m just fine. The weather is beautiful, Taylor Swift’s “Clean” is playing on repeat, my room smells splendid, and my anxiety revolves only around college. I’m not a bundle of tears, locked away in my room. Yes, I remember you. I miss you dearly. But I’ve come to accept the present and the future than ponder over the past. I’ve decided to let my past be exactly where it belongs, in the deepest corners of my mind.

And today I can finally claim, I think I will be okay. I don’t know what’s going to happen next, but I know I’m strong enough to not be scared of you for my entire lifetime. There will come a day when I won’t panic a little when I see your name. There won’t be any harsh memories blurring my vision. There will be just reminiscence over the happy moments, and I can deal with that. I would like that.

This post is for everyone struggling with something. I cannot promise you that it will heal completely, or that you’ll get over it with ice cream and movies. But one day, you will wake up and realise the ache is just a tad bit more bearable.

A football match

Yesterday I was flipping through TV and I came across a football match. Manchester United vs Everton, it said, and memories came rushing back to me. I went back in my bedroom, just before the tears slipped down my face.

I went back to another one of those nights, Machester United vs Everton I think. I’m not sure. But it was an important match, and things weren’t going so well for the team before. You were going to a local bar to watch the match, and I had wished you luck. If only you knew, I wanted to talk to you because things weren’t going so well for me either. But that’s not on you. You told me you’d call me anyway, and I waited till about 2 am. I woke up next morning for college, with my phone in my hand. No calls.

I was being emotional, I rolled my eyes myself. It was just fine to miss a call, or two, or ten. Things happen. Football is important, and you’d told me that you would choose the sport over me. I had accepted it. I went to college and I learned about Piaget’s experiment for about the third time, and then we spoke about the techniques Oscar Wilde used in his play. And I had my favorite food. My friend drew a tattoo on my hand, one with your name on it, but it would get washed out in the rain. I felt my heart sink, when I saw your name was nothing but a smudge on my wrist.

Such a vivid memory, for some strange reason. And so many seemingly unimportant, yet glaringly detailed memories I fight with every single day. Those important days, I feel a burden on my heart and I barely make it through those. When someone asks me about you, I stumble a little before I tell them the truth. “It didn’t work out,” I say, wishing things were different. You still linger in my mind and I still sometimes check my phone for your call. I deleted the contact, but I would recognize your number in an instant.

But perhaps it’s for the best that you don’t call me. Because we had our differences and trust was broken. I lost the blind faith I had, and as did you lose a lot, I’m sure. Maybe you hate me for breaking promises, but I was so scared. I was running away from a fate I witnessed way too many women suffer, and I could not let myself be weak. You, of all people must understand, at 16 I let myself be weak and I still have the scars. And so I ran and ran until I was alone.

I am still angry, and I am still hurt. I still see you in my nightmares and wake up to remind myself that I am far away, no harm can come to me. But I still do wish you to be happy. I wish you to be safe and move on, and most of all to cherish the time we had together, as I will too, one day. And most of all, I found myself wishing Machester United wins the match.

Lessons from regrets

He felt like sprinkle of water in the sun

He was the ride through the deserted roads, with windows down and music up

The sparks that flew, so brilliant and bright

Voice was music to my ears, and I stayed awake all night listening to him talk, for it made all my pain disappear for those moments

His smile was the one that never let me stay mad, and oh those dimples, those dimples that I was almost envious of

The hands I always wanted to hold, the hands that caressed the canvas for something exquisite

And there was his eccentric choice in music that made me admire his mind, so good at maths, even

But how did I forget, that the most beautiful minds can be the most ruthless, plotting extravagent plots of terror

That the hands can also harass, tearing apart what little is left of life

And how dimples are no where to be found when the smile turns into snarls and scowls

How I was left tossing and turning in my bed, yearning for one reply or one call, one call to fix it all

But sparks turn into ravaging fires, burning everything into ashes

Hope I had told myself, reckless driving also leaves people begging for help, bleeding to death

How did I forget, summer rains are storms?

Happy Birthday

I woke up with a panic attack in the middle of the night, I was breathless. Your memories of last year were choking me and I struggled to release myself from their grasp. It took all my willpower to mute your soothing voice in my head, your voice telling me “I love you” over and over and over.

You were not here, I told myself. You were in your city of lights and dreams, moving on from me. You were getting ready to turn one year older, one year better. It was almost 2 am here, almost midnight there. I stayed awake till 2:30,  for your midnight, replaying the songs we hummed together. Do you remember, dear one, how I was in love with the song “Counting Stars” by One Republic and you tried to sing it with me. Or how we both found reason to fight for each other in “Just Give Me A Reason?” I relived the best moments that we spend together, an ocean apart but together with music.

I sat at my window and tried to find the moon that illuminated above us on countless nights before. It was nowhere to be found in the dark skies. And so, finding solace in the stars twinkling, I wished you a happy birthday. I’ve lost the right to wish you for Valentine’s, but I hope I can still retain the right to wish for your happiness on the day this world was graced with your presence. I wanted to reach out to you so desperately, to reach out and tell you how much I thought of you everyday, how much your smile still meant to me. But maybe you didn’t want that. Maybe that would hurt you, again. And so I dug my fingers deep into my skin and wished that the stars I talk to whisper into your ears my words.

And I still can’t get over you. I still miss you. I still love you, dearly. I still passive aggressively talk about you, share the burden of heartbreak with strangers in this labyrinth of life. But one this is for sure, I want you to have the best life possible. I want you to be happy not only for today, but for the rest of your life. I cannot get you a gift for reasons I’m sure you understand, even if you resent them. But I will never forget you. Perhaps this is my last gift to you.

Happy birthday, darling.

What my LDR taught me

For the uninitiated, LDR means a long distance relationship. And yes, I was in one. It didn’t work out, which is obvious from the use of past tense in the previous sentence. I’m not here to play the blame game. I’ve done it plenty. Today, leaving all my grudges and anger aside, I’m going to try and look at everything that 2+ years of LDR taught me.

1. “Distance makes the heart fonder” is false. There is nothing about the distance that made me love him more. My love for him didn’t magnify with the ocean sitting stubbornly between us. It made me miss him, it made me wish upon shooting stars and wait for 11:11 every day and night, but I don’t think my love increased solely because of the distance. My love for him was beyond any external influences, including distance.
2. “Out of sight, out of mind” is false. Even as we were miles and time zones apart, not once did it occur to me to give up on the person I cared about the most. Not once did I even consider changing my mind, or about giving up because being in a relationship where one’s early morning was others’ middle of the night was too challenging. Never did I let the inability of ours to kiss come in the middle of the pure magic we shared.
3. Faith in the other. There were times when I, or him, felt insecure about the relationship. We were both, after all, young people and had a social life. The thought of infidelity or just simply the other losing interest was enough to send shivers down our spine. But with the aforementioned ocean between us, we couldn’t track the other every minute of the day (which by the way, isn’t healthy even if you can do it). That’s when I understood that having faith over the one you love is what will give you peace of mind.
4. Ignoring the doubters. There were multiple people in my life (and I assume, in his) who did not like this relationship. It was unconventional, and there were easier, more lucrative options available for both of us. People were sometimes subtle and sometimes blunt in telling me I was wasting away my time. It bothered me sometimes, but I figured out that listening to people talk about the person who they didn’t even know existed before I mentioned their name was pointless. Nobody knows you and your loved one besides your immediate family and friends, and even they can be wrong. Don’t go with the flow of what the society wants you to do, ever.
5. Little things matter the most. When you are unable to hang out or have dinner together, those random texts in the middle of the night gain more stature than ever before. I had the habit of sending letters and emails, or just tagging him on twitter and making the world jealous with our cheesy-ness. There was nothing more sweet than him calling me up to just say ‘I love you’, and there was nothing more annoying than having to talk to a drunk football fan whose team lost. But the little things, in the end, either break you apart or make you invincible.
6. It’s just like any other relationship. Really, there are very little differences in the holistic sense. We fought over the dress (yes, that golden or blue dress) and we fought over trust issues and boundaries. We had the most common fights and the most aberrant fights. The world may think LDRs are alien in nature, but really, they just involve a little more of everything any other kind of relationship demands.

And that’s that. In the end, both of us were left with broken hearts and scattered souls but the ending was perhaps inevitable. The distance’s existence didn’t contribute to the end, I am sure of that. People have the most meaningful relationships across the globe, while others living together may end up only getting hurt. The outcome of your relationship can best be predicted by you, and you only. So don’t be afraid to do whatever it takes to protect someone, or something you believe in with all your heart.

Musings

Don’t fabricate me to be a Goddess

For I am not invincible

My insecurities are buried deep within my

Soul that has perserved through

The best and the worst of this world

That I neither created, nor will destroy

But only struggle to understand

 

I have mortal powers

And stronger mortal emotions

Forcing me into making mistakes

To look back upon to frown, or smile

My twisted thoughts mould me everyday to

Pave my way through the labyrinth

With no escape but death

 

My eyes shine brighter than the stars

Red lips linger, heavenly

Promising you hazy memories for a lifetime

In the temple of sins, our sparks fly

Burning what is left of chastity

At that moment, I am your Goddess

But oh darling, how amiss you are