(Author’s note: Edited again. Somewhere. Yes, I am indecisive. :)

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The word boyfriend has lost its meaning for me. What seemed to have been a dream come true with its obligatory white horse and shiny armour seems to get more and more elusive each day, just like the magic kingdom that every visitor can see but may never touch.

It is not to say that Mr. Prince Charming is a lie. After years of growing up with Disney Princesses and Sailor Soldiers, reading Cleo, CosmoGirl!, Women’s Weekly, and Seventeen more media propagation that did wonders to my almost non-existent self-esteem for as long as my innocence stayed in Sweet Valley, I have come to realize that he is more than just business and world domination media control of Hallmark and whatnot. For an idea to exist, surely something must have happened before. Cause and effect; yin and yang. To deny the existence of that very thing everyone else has been flaunting is just that: Denial.

Is this an article from a former wishy-washy romantic gone bitter hag due to a nevernon-existent sex life? Not quite. I had boyfriends before. “Serious” ones, if I may add. Boyfriends who worshiped my existence for its sensuality, exclusivity, comfort, novelty, excitement…

…and I had non-”boyfriends” who did the same thing. Boyfriends who did not want an official, exclusive relationship “at the moment”. And I played along, assuming that our understanding and respect was mutual, which worked out for a good bit. Let’s not go there right now.

And the more scandalous bit: I had other people’s “boyfriends” who shared what felt to be a more…fulfilling relationship (friendship and/or otherwise) with me than with their supposed “girlfriends”.

What’s going on here?

Hence, three years ago, there came my first inkling of doubt towards the sanctity of the very notion of having a “spouse” or a “significant other” under the alias of “boyfriend/girlfriend”.

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Furthermore, Hollywood is no help. The moment the spotlight is on that single good-looker, regardless of how pathetic or how much of a jerk he will be to the main character, anyone sensitive enough would recognize the upcoming happily ever after. Even if he gratefully dies in a train wreck in the end, you can tell that she has found The One, no doubt.

They always make it seem like they’re the one and only. “Soulmates”. Bah, almost no resemblance to real life.

Lucky bastards. Moments like this makes me wonder what the hell happened to my own stage camera.

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You must be wondering where I am going with this. After about 5 official boyfriends, 12 half-assed whirlwind romance and a number of romantic interludes I do not intend to recall, I have come to realize the futility of believing in a real Romeo. Not the kind who only knows the right sonnets, songs, and consolations at the right time and place, nor the kind who calls you often enough just because they know you care enough, but the ones who do not feel their cold feet as they stride to catch each of your fall.

Regardless of your reasons; even if the excuse is not their horny loving arms.

Especially those who know that you would do the same for them. From the start.

After all, let’s face it: We still live in that faraway place of dungeons and dragons, witches and warlocks, with damsels in distress stuck in ivory towers of abandoned castles, even though we may think that all of this happened once upon a time, a long long time ago. For if we don’t, why do we still speak so much about the ideal date, the ideal wedding, or the ideal partner then? Why is Disney still capable of milking more moolah using morbid improvised fairytales after bygone years?

The way I see it, what is missing from the real picture is the good knights, shining armours or not. Many of them seemed to be so used to making peace in their kingdoms of comfort zones that when their inner demons came out to play, they ran and hide like a boy, instead of confronting them like a man should have, leaving the womanly princess behind.

It became hard for the princess to seek for them again. She became vulnerable, eventually bitter, with a grudge.

Perhaps, she should not have let go so quickly, so trustingly. If only because they seemed to sincerely promise to catch her fall, indirectly or not.

And then she feels the blame.

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Once upon a time, my life was a fairytale, a romantic comedy, a chick flick.

I wonder when my time will come again……for good.

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I wish I didn’t like watching girly shits this much. Damn those 27 dresses.

(Author’s note: Edited my disclaimers, due to confusion of some readers.)

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Due to the fear of miscommunication, allow me to throw in a few disclaimers, establishing what this post is not:

1. This post is about some people I’ve encountered, especially recently, and I talk about them in such a way so that the post is more general than subjective.
2. This post is not a thesis of self-justification.
3. This post is not to tell you what to think or how to feel.
4. This post is not to say what is ultimately right or ultimately wrong.

Above all, this post is not meant to moralized. Should you feel that way at the end, try this:

Think about what it took for me to bring myself to even share this much, this far.

:———————————:

Things I have learned:

1. Nobody naturally wants to fucking hurt themselves for “nothing” in the first place.

2. To love or care, in any way, is to risk hurting oneself at the expense of nobody else.

3. To want to care at all, is the want to justify that trust one feels that the other has earned, if only because the other is just being who they are to the former; to reciprocate to what seemed to be goodwill; selflessness.

4. Before one can hurt another, one has to first get past their own insecurities; either acknowledge them or go in denial.

5. Most of the time, people choose the latter, to go in denial. Hence, there are many selfish, insecure bastards and bitches in this world.

6. People who truly care about you won’t bother trying to use you to satisfy their superficial needs of the moment: Physical pleasure should never be equated to emotional satisfaction.

7. Unless, they are either: a) lying, or b) really wanting to please you more than pleasing themselves.

8. Which brings me to this point: “No” means no; not let’s-have-a-sequel-an-hour-
after-I-pour-my-fucking-heart-out-to-you-or-after-my-bout-of-emoness.

9. (In relation,) Casual dating is sadomasochistically egoistic, selfish, and morally retarded, especially with the “wrong” person. You cannot “be yourself” and “care” like you would for a “normal” positive relationship that it can even jeopardize the “friendship”.

What you may think as initial reasoning/negotiation here may not come to a mutual agreement in the long run.

I wonder what has humanity today become.

10. If someone gives you 2-10 missed calls and does not badger you afterwards for the rest of the day, it does not mean that person is trying to be “clingy”. That person obviously called you because it was urgent and important enough, whether to their physical wellbeing or emotional wellbeing, and you meant more to them than 50 other alternatives.

11. If you insist on calling them “clingy”, what would that say about you if you’re supposedly their good friend/boyfriend/girlfriend?

12. Then again, when you call a person a “cheat/liar” who “only knows to take and not to give” and that you’ve “wasted your time” with them, because they don’t always want to go over to your place to hear you talk shit about other people and hear you tell them how to live their lives and cuddle with you because they’d rather do that with people they’re actually attracted to (especially because you’re obviously already getting the wrong impression about them), after they have been there for you again and again to rant and cry your fucking eyeballs out about how “nobody appreciates you” till fucking dawn, just because you’re their friend, not to mention the special brownie and cigarette lighters (they know you’d like) they’ve spent days hours searching, buying, and baking for your fucking birthday even though you both know each other over the span of only a fucking few months, even though you didn’t do shit for their birthday, just because they thought you needed some TLC after all the pain they have seen you been through…

…don’t expect them to respond to your 20 online and text messages plus 5 (and more, before) missed calls in the middle of the night of fucking finals week, if only because you’re acting on regret upon retarded hindsight.

Especially after you texted them: “Why do you keep ignoring me? That’s lame” and telling them “FUCK YOU!!!!!!!!!!”.

Or something like that.

13. Most men don’t have the heart most women have.

14. Most women don’t have the brains most men have.

15. The world is clearly fucked up as it is. Don’t assume that the person who chose you (out of 43958 others) to emo with did not know that already. More often than not, fairly educated souls know that there are at least 2478092343490823 people out there living on welfare, dying from AIDS, Hepatitis A and B and C and D and E and F and whatever else, HIV, leukemia, breast cancer, brain tumor, Bush’s decision, having no arms and legs and penises, child abuse, sex abuse, religious abuse, institutionalized abuse, hunger pains, period pains, unfortunate plane crashes, and whatever else your sadistic mind can conjure, so if you do your part not to tell me how to feel, I will do my best to empathize and listen where your good intentions are coming from, thanks very fucking much.

To each his/her own. Each person’s experience is more subjective than you think it is. The impact of physiological pain cannot be compared to the impact of psychological pain if you want to truly relate to the latter.

16. Again, if you’re in any way psychologically educated, you should be well aware that depression is not a choice. It takes a lot out of someone to even share anything related to that with you.

Have you ever tried confiding how you truly feel to someone you thought you can trust?

Remember that feeling, thanks.

17. People who try their best to diss my belief in astrology often do not bother to take the time and effort to study its arcane art for what it is.

Ah…you are wondering if this is a true science or simply a concoction of mumbo-jumbo? One thing is certain, if you discard the ancient occult art of astrology completely, then there is no romance or poetry within your soul, for this is an art with a tradition of mysticism and ancient lore which reaches back for thousands of years.

Source: The coolest mysterious site I’ve come across to date, recently.

Just for your information, I’ve observed astrology on and off for about five years to come this far. And it’s not even much, in my not-too-humble opinion.

18. I was brought up a freethinker; a skeptic; a “philosopher”; a “truth-seeker”. All my life, I’ve almost never liked the idea of being controlled.

Hence, I say it is sick for anyone to assume that I enjoy believing in what I seem to believe in.

Especially when they clearly don’t bother asking me enough to get a clearer picture. What’s more to try to know enough about me before making any educated assumption.

Craziness is never as crazy as you once thought, once you see the reason behind it, for what it is.

19. I look at all the lonely people. I wonder how many of them look at me too.

20. Sympathy and empathy are not the same thing.

21. If I can tolerate you for what you appear to be, can you tolerate me too? If you want me to be honest with you, can you be as honest with me too?

I like telling it like it is, exactly for what it is. Can you do the same too, while facing your innermost wants and fears?

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Mutual tolerance, mutual respect; how underrated.

Fair trade; what an ideal.

Barter trade; the sad fact of life.

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I owe a lot to my intuition. Unfortunately, I don’t trust myself to trust anymore.

If only because I cared more than I should have.

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“I don’t remember a time when I had to protest that I’m being honest.”

The funky therapist, some pH.D holder of something something don’t remember where I saw it, a Muslim.

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I wonder how it is like being an asexual. The therapist said there’s nothing really bad about it.

• Ideals have to compromise with reality in order to actualize.

The hardest thing to learn
so far.

• A change of heart is inevitable.

The hardest thing to accept
so far.

• People can change (what may be) their future with the choices they have in the present.

Hope;
the hardest kind to remember
in times of need.

http://asianexpat.wordpress.com/2008/04/12/starstruck/

http://www.vimeo.com/82476

From My Best Friend; regardless of what she thinks of me, of us.

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Two mornings ago.

I’ve a question for you… Since we won’t be seeing each other for some time now, might as well…

Sure, what is it?

Okay, it’s a simple question; a yes-or-no question.

Okay.

Pause.

Do you want to be together with me or not?

Silence.

Not now.

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I hate wishful thinking of memories in faulty records of my mind.

How my heart remembers.