I used to say “I’m not boy crazy, I’m romantic possibility obsessed”, as my clever defense against other’s mislabeling me “boy crazy”. their lack of understanding why I always be instant-crushin was a thorn in my side and a misunderstanding of my character. it’s true though, that I am on a constant crusade for a connection, a heart-skip moment, any eye-contact that results in sparks, an accidental brush of the hand that creates shivers, and excitable night conversations that go on for so long the morning light makes us realize we must stop exchanging words so our bodies can recharge since we’re not immortal (unfortunately).
So when I hone in on a cute boy across a crowd of disgruntled, sweaty sad faces, I am merely anxiously awaiting for the butterflies to hatch in my belly and flutter around, hoping our pinkies are tied with an invisible red string that only fate can tug at. there are many variations of romantic exchanges, from subtle secret moments to full-blown once-in-a-lifetime epic tales that are retold again and again in movies and supermarket pulp novels. I want to experience the whole spectrum.
my heart has always been sewn to my sleeve and I make no move to hide my hope that SOMEday (is today the day?? it could be ANY day!) I’ll be with “the ONE” (and there are many “ones”, I’m sure of it). I was told once that we all have 10,000 loves in our lifetime that we have the possibility to connect with. I believe that, why not. I was never good at math, but there’s literally billions of people on this planet, so 10,000 ain’t a bad statistic probably.
but don’t misunderstand this, I don’t want 10,000 serious relationships. 10,000 couple tees I cannot fit into my closet. there are many types of people, and I want to experience as many as I can, in any exchange. to learn from people and interact with them. I am not longing to be anyone’s girlfriend. I want that excitement you get in the between, where you’re not sure where anything is going. it may explode, it may implode, it may fizzle out. I’m looking to light fireworks with familiars but they mostly turn out to be duds. you can’t force a flame on a wet fuse. it just ain’t happenin.
the waves of my opposite-sex obsession have gone up and down, depending on my company and current standings, but has always idled in a various state of longing and deep sighs. I have been in asia for almost 2 years now, and I’ve read an uncountable amount of blogs from girls abroad, hooking up with the beautiful men of japan and korea as if this is the easiest feat a Caucasian blonde can accomplish. I have not had the best of luck in this phase of my life. I realized it had reached a desperate point when on multiple occasions I found myself devastatingly heart broken over a 10-minute train ride crush getting off at a different stop than mine.
what does a romantic think about when there is a serious lack of romance?
I had no one to be excited about, to wonder or learn about. no one to make my heart skip a beat when my phone buzzed or create a faint smile across my face in the middle of the day. I was at an all time low, experiencing a weird mix of celebrity-like attention and literally scaring guys off with my mere existence. I seemed to be in a plastic bubble atop a sky-scraper tall pedestal, always attempting to climb down to approach guys but only to have them react like I was some sort of rare forest creature they didn’t know what to do with. I kept lowering myself, my expectations, my values and personality to seem less intimidating. I wasn’t myself and still collecting less than zero. it was truly pitiful.
for lack of exciting interactions, I began reaching into a dark musty void in the back of my mind, attempting to grasp at hazy memories and pretending the vapors were a substance I could cling to. confusing infatuation with love and not knowing any better, I thought I had a special thing locked away deep down that tortured me more than entertained. it infected me for a long time, making me think I had a quick fix to preoccupy my mind. it was an empty placebo pill (full of cancer), moonlighting as a cure to my waning heart. I always went back to it, as a back-up romance but it was only an illusion in the desert. my delusional oasis. an oasis of poison.
I confronted it when I finally forced the moment to arise (as I had been meaning to do for nearly a decade) and emptied my old rotten guts onto the pavement. I spent some time analyzing the putrid pile, now that it was out in the open and poked it with a stick a bit. I was glad it wasn’t inside of me anymore, because it was ugly and pretty gross. pukey descriptive metaphors aside, I really did let go of something unattractive and I am feeling so much lighter and emptier.
empty sounds like a lonely word, but it feels fantastic. it’s like an empty shelf, or a clean jar. there are so many possible beautiful things/moments/people/memories to fill it with. for the first time in probably ever, I’m not clinging to anyone or anything. my mind is the clearest it’s ever been. my focus has stopped falling onto my raging hormones (and romantic possibility obsession).
transitioning through the heavy unloading of realizations, I also came to the sweet conclusion that I really truly only loved one person all my life thus far, and that feeling put me at peace. It felt like I was sitting on an empty beach watching a long purple and pink sunset with my feet in soft white sand and a gentle breeze rolling off the quiet ocean onto my skin. that’s what that realization felt like. I used to worry that I really WAS boy crazy and I that maybe I DID fall in love too easily. but It was only stumbling briefly into dreamlike states of a temporary illusion of love–infatuation. all this time. oh, I’m not a love whore. good. the love I gave to the one who mattered, was the truest and meant the most–how love should be. good, I’m a good person. whew.
but now, what do I fall asleep thinking about? who stands in the spots in my made-up scenario mind plays? why dress up and worry about my make up and hair if I have no one to impress? what do romantics day dream about when they don’t have a potential prince or princess in their thoughts?
oh, wait. the answer is me. myself. I can clear my mind and think about the shit I want to do. I can stop wasting time about things that aren’t happening, and look forward to real events taking place in my life. I can relax and dress for me, and choose to wear whatever hair and make up I like that makes me feel good–for me. and only for me. I have no one but myself to live up to. and I can relax just being myself.
not only does this relaxed state of non-boy-obsession prevent stress and undesired emotions of over-thinking about things I can’t control, but I honestly don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks. in this purest state of being myself (back atop the sky-high pedestal where I belong), I will only attract those who can see who I am and like me for me. and if they don’t, guess what I don’t give a shit. and it feels sooooo good to not worry about what other people think. I don’t need to be validated and I don’t have to prove anything to anyone. I know who I am and I know what I am capable of and I don’t need anyone to tell me otherwise. especially boys who are only into girls with long hair. (…)
despite my mid-late-20s epiphanies, I am still a romantic. I have a new outlook and practice involving the on-going thorough checking out of cute boys, but as they pass me, so does the feeling. I look at them as a fleeting gift of beauty during my dull day amongst crowds and crowds of average to below average looking people. I say “thank you bishounen gods for granting me this moment of visual eye candy on the train today.” if I make eye contact, I smile. no longer do I stress over a complete stranger. if they are meant to be in my life, then they will be. I’m not too worried about it anymore. I also have no desire to date, I am not looking, nor setting up social media sites with profile pictures I need to fuss with.
but I will always be on the look out for those sparkly eyes.