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.

First Heartbreak

One day, you will lose the first love of your life.

You may have predicted this or it may come to you as a shock. It may have be a decision you make or the other makes or you both make. You may have loved them for a month or for your entire life. Irrespective of anything and everything, you will have your first heartbreak sooner or later. And it will hurt.

It will cause stabbing pains in your chest and you’ll hold yourself in a ball under your blankets and muffle your screams into the pillow, eventually soaking it with your tears. You’ll hurt physically and emotionally. There will be a knot in your stomach, or an emptiness, perhaps both. You’ll wonder how that’s possible.

You’ll feel so much anger. Towards them, towards the world, and towards yourself. You will curse and blame everyone and everything, from the stars to your decision to their mistakes and finally you’ll tell yourself that you can fix things if you want to but then you remember that you don’t possess a time machine and you can’t fix the things that were said and done. You’ll hate life for being unfair and you’ll hate them for leaving you in this position when they promised you they wouldn’t ever hurt you and then you’d end up hating yourself for being so in love.

You’ll miss them dearly. You’ll miss them when you wake up because there is no one snoring next to you and you’ll miss them while making dinner because there’s nobody to tease you about your pathetic culinary skills. You’ll think about how you met and drive all the way to the deserted place, which once converted into a despicable small carnival that you once hated, but began loving, because you met him inside the maze and you figured out your way out together and then got bubble mix and ate candy.

You’ll stalk them on social media and see your old photos and their new photos and you’ll see how the smile is still there, with or without you. And that will make you smash your phone, hate them, hate yourself even more. You’ll torture yourself with the sweet memories but the butterflies won’t flutter, instead there will be fresh tears threatening to spill while you’re sitting in your class. That is, if you find the energy to go to class.

You’ll want to spend all days and nights in your bed and on your couch, with smudged eye liner and a messy bun. You’ll live off binge eating pizza and ice cream while watching your favourite movie together and it will make you cry where it once made you laugh. You’ll go off for drives at 2 am, being reckless, thinking about how it’d piss them off seeing you not wearing your seatbelt. You’ll drink down your sorrow and you’ll wake up being hung over them all over again.

Some days will be better than the others. You’ll realise absolutely anything can remind you of them and then you’ll detest your brain a little, but then you’ll realise, you feel a little less miserable. You won’t be okay in a matter of days, but you’ll feel comfort again in hugs and you’ll start smiling again listening to Ed Sheeran.

And then you’ll know that one day, maybe tomorrow, maybe far from now, you will wake up to be happy again.