When will we (ever) learn? People are not characters glorified in books and movies. They do not say the things that make you re-read sentences a hundred times in quick succession and memorize them by heart. Life is not structured like a beautiful story. Falling in love is often not as splendid a state as it seems in Hollywood-manufactured movies. There is no award-winning cinematography or musical scoring. Sometimes, things don’t just…work out. Or end well. Or resolve. Or triumph.
And romance novels can ruin you. Getting ensnared by them makes you unfit for real living.
When Washington Irving said “Love is never lost. If not reciprocated, it will flow back and soften and purify the heart,” he must have been experiencing one of those bouts of insanity people in love are prone to. Sure, it’s a nice idea, but, in the end, it is exactlywhat we have all been conditioned to think is possible. So, at every opportunity available to us, we piece together this makeshift mockery of that ideal as though it is, in fact, present in our actual lives. As though it could be possible. Attainable even.
Wait. Let me first state for the record that there is NOTHING amiss in my relationship. No, nothing like that. We are, in fact, blissful and optimistic as any two people in love can be. This is just something that I have been thinking long and hard about, prior to meeting (and committing to) C.
Moving on, I really do believe that the heart ALWAYS knows when it has found home. At the risk of sounding like a bubble-headed romantic, I still believe deep inside that love can indeed make you feel all right. You see, I never wanted too much. I just want a cozy little home where when we close the front door, we play Scrabble or poker and perhaps argue about certain ideology, women’s so-called liberation and men’s so-called cheating hearts, eat too much rice meal and fat-laden adobo or sinigang and run like maniacs the next day, play an eclectic repertoire of music, read the Bible or whatever book we’re interested in at the moment, laugh at stupid inside jokes, do impressions of one another, snore in unison when both exhausted from a hard day’s work.
And maybe, when it feels right, try to make the world’s smartest, big-headed, precocious babies. Correction, twins.
Me. That’s right. Wanting mini MEs.
Guess I’m like every other woman who ever breathed oxygen. Wanting to build a life and make it work with the man she has voluntarily handed over the deed to her heart. Her life. Voluntarily though sometimes scared shitless of life’s surprises.
Because really, once you learn, once you see what’s actually there, what else can you do but go without fear?