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Another evening, another hour spent looking up on what the world around me is up to. Facebook does have its uses and for now, its uses to me are to inform me, whether I like it or not, that ‘I am single as single can be’.
The networking site takes pleasures in informing you of the lives of people, you once dreamed of a future with, and how they’re doing absofuckinlutely fine without YOU!
I woke up late this afternoon to a conversation on the ever-benevolent FB, where someone I’ve always been in love with, suddenly decided to pop-up on my screen and chat (Lo! And Behold! It was HIM).
The young and extremely charming saver of lives, who has been in my life for the last five years, stopped by on his virtual highway to pleasure, to find out if I was doing well. I said I was and that was that (at least I thought so!).
But, random chat ensued and we spoke about several things including how he assumed I needed sex, lots of it apparently! If only sex was the solution to everything! *sigh*
Anyhoo, all he stopped by was to inform me that he had fallen in love (one more down, several more to go?). He had met someone special, they went back to his place had wild, fiery sex and now they were in love.
I’ve heard that story and learnt to never judge the hard way, so I congratulated him and assumed that was that.
Right! Like that is ever just that! The conversation went on to speak about why I would never work as his lover and why I am probably the worst thing to happen to someone searching for love.
I thought it must be just wonderful how fate always assumed I could take all this negativity, especially when I was already so deep and immersed in feeling like shit. I’d practically forgotten what ‘Happy’ meant. But where was I to be shown any mercy from fate’s cruel cold intentions and the conversation ensued, as teardrops trickled down my cheek, one by one. (Don’t feel sad, please, coz’ from the likes of that conversation, I am half convinced, I deserved it!)
Now, once upon a time, I used to imagine, the divine force up there cared when I cried (What a small boy, I was!). Now, I realize my tears mean nothing and nobody knew or cared if was crying, dying, being raped, or going mad, at this very moment.
Such realizations can hit you where you hate it the most — at the very core of your ego, your self-image and your esteem, but I have seen far too much of all this to be affected, or even be remotely self-piteous, so I just cried and I left it at that.
That done. I hoped now my day would be a better one, so I checked the Inbox on my mobile. The first message from another special someone was angry. Ridden with insults, it meant: either special someone was drunk, or special someone hated me newly, for something I had just apparently done. Only problem: We don’t live in the same city anymore. What could I have done?
I call. I text. I wonder. The silence remains. But at least I realize why special someone remained ‘just’ special someone in my life. I silently thank god for small mercies. My tummy grumbles. I need food.
I make myself some green tea (not food, but definitely comforting). My splitting senses need some calming. So I switch on the telly and what do I see? Some more gay love being spewed at my face. Unable to take it anymore. I decide to read something online, something dark and cold and mysterious, a lot like the person I was going to meet in the evening. Another special someone, who I hope forever, remains just that!
The heartless bitch virtual stalker called FB pops up, to inform me that another someone special is going to meet his boy love, on my side of the equator. I am now curious. So I stalk a little and then realize it’s kinda pointless to be doing that.
I mean special someone well, and I always hoped he’d find someone nice. But I also wanted him to suffer for not wanting me (stupid little me!). Thankfully my good intentions prevailed and I now continue to want his good. They make such a cute couple. I swear!
Anyhoo, someone special’s boy love is a charming dream boy, who writes really well, cooks really well and to put it really simply — I can see why special someone fell for him. God bless them both as they flirt away and make a happy future together in the fig forest. *takes away the evil eye on them by imagining they’re around and breaking knuckles on both their respective temples*
But that begs the BIG question to be asked. Why did these special someone’s not want to make me their special someone. I mean, I know I am special in their lives, but I am not their boy love. Deep down, I am being manipulated into believing (and it does seem true), that it after-all is about the mere physicality of things.
I am fat. I know it. I am not ashamed of it and will lose the excess tummy that I have, when I know it is needed to be done. My two front teeth, that I lost during an accident, will eventually be replaced, once I find a dentist who can do a good enough job and also assure me that further ‘experiments’ will not be conducted. My mouth feels like a guinea pig — three years of various dental experiments and nothing worthwhile even once. Lots of pain, that’s all.
Now, I have always said that I will not fall for a man, who can’t see past these supposed two shortcomings, but as I grow older, I seem to realize, men like that don’t exist. All my special someone’s are attracted enough to only hold on to me as an emotional connect, but when it comes to the physical, I am a strict, let’s-just-sweep-that-under-the-carpet conversation.
So do I need to mould myself into being a dream boy too? Even though I never felt the need to be one? And is that why my best friend now takes everybody else’s side but mine? Oh wait, that’s another story altogether! Will vomit that out soon enough, when projectile cleaning is required again, for the betterment of the feeling of my soul.
Lots of questions pending and the need to watch a play, I am sure I won’t enjoy, I get ready for my evening. My day couldn’t have gotten worse, I assumed. But it did.
The play was fun. I am now an official fan of Pandavani as a folk art form and just when I thought I could do a quiet little escape post play, dinner plans are made. I can’t do a good enough, ‘I am not really looking forward to that’ expression and so I agree. Also I adore the feminine company I have.
Anyway special someone is there, as he has to be there (!), and I spend the rest of the evening not looking at him, for fear of falling for him more. He is not meant for me, and this time round I hope to not fall for someone ‘again’, now that I’m sure of what he’s looking for. Any guesses?
You or I, won’t be surprised.
