I’ve been busy.
I’ve been very busy.
In fact I’ve been so busy that I almost forgot that I was in the middle of regaling you with tales of my exploits, sonnets of my misadventures and entertaining you with my litany of misdeeds.
At the moment, I’m on the third floor of a classroom building. Overlooking a not so romantic orchard in which I can clearly discern at least 10 different couples in various stages of conversation, laughter and even one close to the square stealing kisses when they think no one is watching. Well… I’m watching. Big Brother sees all.
So while trying to orchestrate my thoughts, make sure they are coherent and censored enough to be put into writing, a phenomenon I had not experienced in a while popped into my head yet again.
Yes, you bloody Muggle, there has been a lot of things popping into my head lately.
Anyways, I’ve been talking about that first love feeling. That state of total correspondence that is the human response to the stimulus of attachment. The pre-pubescent reaction to lofty declarations of affection. I can remember mine perfectly. The continuous calling and texting, the consistent presence in my thoughts and dreams. Ahh… the dreams… That hormone fueled domain of writhing bodies. That awesome feeling of complete vulnerability that I will probably be too jaded, wounded and emotionally unavailable to ever feel again. And that my friends, is the only stage or rather period in life where some school of thought would deign to admit that love matters.
But as you’ve already noticed, I again digress.
Let’s get back on track.
You know there’s a name for someone like you right? You’ve been following this trilogy so religiously, hoping this dude is gonna go through hell and back for your entertainment. You do know it wasn’t this sweet when all this was going down right? You do know life is way better in retrospect? You do know you’ve never actually been in love? You do know you were just in a heightened state of co-dependence which is very unhealthy? You do know…
Well there are a lotta things I wish you knew, that you probably don’t.
After the very auspicious day where the three sisters called Fate, the universe, Mother Earth, ancestors, gods, spirits, demons and every other entity out there with even an iota of supernatural power had gifted me with her PIN, it had been very hard going.
In fact, my attempts at getting close to her were kinda like Nigeria’s attempts at getting uninterrupted power supply. We all know how that’s going right?
It was like trying to climb Mount Everest with just a pair of swimming trunks on. And if you’ve heard the term “blue-balls” or the more politically accepted nomenclature “prostate congestion”, you would understand the extent of my pain.
After much bugging and trust me, I bugged her, persistence had paid off. I can remember my messages hanging there, delivered but not read for days on end, me hoping and praying for just a simple ‘hi’. Which, as you must have guessed, didn’t come. After a while though, she warmed up to me and we could converse for hours, getting to know each other; me falling deeper for her and she doing whatever it is girls do with guys they know have no future with them.
I wonder how they do that though, or more importantly, why they do actually do that. Is there something fundamentally wrong with us guys? Yes? No? Maybe? Then why in God’s name do you keep shooting straight, articulate, semi-presentable and definitely capable guys down? Lord knows I’m no Superman, but I’m pretty sure I make a pretty great Clark Kent.
From the rantings of the above paragraph, I’m sure the intellectually capable among you would have already guessed where we just arrived at. And those “Joey’s” relations out there just got it now. Yea…
Next stop, Casa le rejection.
Okay, it’s pretty normal to get rejected at first, then the dude is supposed to wave his magic wand a bit (not that wand, perv!), murmur some incantations and voila, you’ve got yourself a boo. But this time it was obviously different. She had that emphatic look on her face. I really don’t know how to describe the “look” but I’m pretty sure over the course of your life, you probably have or will come across the look. And there and then, you will know that all hope is lost.
I think its pertinent to mention the fact that it just started raining, water gushing forth from the sky on to the scalps of the love birds down below at my behest. And even in this cold outpouring those two still manage to hold hands and make the search for a suitable hiding spot romantic. And that my friends is why love is so gaddem frustrating and weirdly mysterious.
With all my few years of experience and even fewer years in the administration and management of love, the dishing, doling and receiving of feelings in not so equal portions and not so frequent proportions, I’ve come to realize that like beauty, love is in the eyes of the beholder.
Pretty awesome to watch people in love. Well depending on the state of your love life at that moment, it might hurt a bit too. But if you “imagine” yourself to be currently under the spell of the dwarf plonker Cupid, or just like me you’re indifferent to the whole kebab and impervious to Cupid’s pesky arrows then watching lovey dovey couples can be a fun pastime.
The shocker though is when it comes to you, it’s not as fun as it looks, especially if you’re a member of Team Love Unrequited (TLU), Team Heartbroken and Weary (THW), Team No Love Found (TNLF) or the many other teams and associations out there that cater to distresses of the heart. But yet again, there’s nothing comparable to looking across that crowded room and feeling that special tug close to your sternum. That feeling isn’t even comparable to the indescribable heady rush of the first kiss. And if you’re observant, you would have noticed the fact that I used the word “feelings” a lot during the course of writing this. Probably because that’s what love is about. Feelings, and actions, both good and bad prompted by the said feelings.
One way or another, Good or bad, I guess love does matter. Be it in the search for the elusive true love/soul mate, trying to keep the relationship with the said true love/soul mate going, or plain-old trying to run away from the not so true love/soul mate. We are all infected, affected, afflicted and most time controlled by the impulse of “Love”.
As the winter winds litter London with lonely hearts
Oh the warmth in your eyes swept me into your arms
Was it love or fear of the cold that led us through the night?
For every kiss your beauty trumped my doubt
And my head told my heart
“Let love grow”
But my heart told my head
“This time no
This time no”
Mumford and sons – Winter Winds