You Think Love Is Stupid, So You Don’t Get Love.
I still remember him walking towards the car in his suit, no tie, his hair flying in the wind of the chilly spring evening.
I remember watching him get closer from behind the cab’s window, mesmerized, breathless, soaking in his every move.
This guy! This guy would come to me, and he would kiss me, whisper sweet nothings in my ear, and pull me by the hand towards wherever, and I would happily go.
But when he entered the cab and went to kiss my cheek, but kissed my neck, I said, “Where are you taking me looking like that?” squinting at his messy hairstyle, which, incidentally, I loved.
During my short affair with him — I say affair because it was hardly a relationship — I was a strange amalgamation of cynical and stupidly in love.
And now, after over a decade, I finally understand why.
First, because I didn’t understand what love is.
I thought I loved this guy, but it was really about the thrill of having him. All the girls liked him, and I wanted to prove I could get him.
But is love supposed to be about proving anything to anyone?
And had I gotten him, would’ve I been happy?
Not really, looking at where life took him. It’s not a bad place, but it’s the opposite of what I want for myself.
So why do we try so hard and suffer so much for these ‘cool’ guys when we’re not even sure they can make us happy? Isn’t our own happiness the ultimate thing to pursue?
Second, because I didn’t think I deserved him.
The second builds up on the first. I was trying to prove I could have him because I didn’t think I could.
Shame on me for thinking about him as some prize rather than a human being.
And even more shame on me for treating myself like a second-class girl who needs to work hard for the tiny chance to get a guy she thinks is worthy.
I didn’t think I deserved him, so I didn’t “get” him.