061217: Day 176
A very close friend of mine once told me that it annoys her to know that I lost my carefree laughter and my confidence when I lost the man I love. Or loved. (Hmmm, still not sure about that. Haha!)
Her comment made me think of how much the heartbreak was affecting me during that time. Realizing that I cannot even push myself into laughter was already heartbreaking in itself. As much as my sanity and my default setting are concerned, there is never a day that I don’t smile and laugh. The comment was cold water splashed on my face and made me reevaluate the way I was coping up with the event of getting my heart broken.
Moreover, as much as how repulsive I have been towards guys during my younger years, I have now been as cautious towards any advances they try to do with me. If there is a thousand peso for every single time I am allowed to roll my eyes on their superficial and fling-type advances on me, I would have been able to pay for my tuition fee in med school for one semester.
The way different men try to “test the waters” on me tire me. I could not even put it into written words, let alone verbally. Just ask me to show my dire exhaustion and disinterest on it through the rolling of my eyes, the crunching of my nose, the wrinkling of my forehead, the gnashing of my teeth, the clenching of my fists, and you would understand how deeply I have lost interest on direct and indirect confessions of “special” interest on me. I am as likely to say, “It doesn’t interest me if you are interested on me.”
once upon a time, a man in my life, who happened to be someone I trusted so much, told me he loves me and still managed to leave me without any warning.
Once upon a time, the friendship was sincere, and still he chose not to stay.
I figured then that all along, it was not me who set the standards sooo high — it was the experience of getting left behind (naiwan sa ere, bes).
The standard is higher now.
Because I no longer want to invest any single second with a man who confesses his love for me and then leaves me hanging alone the next day. I no longer want to play tag with a man who checks if I would send him a message after he intentionally stops texting me for a week or so. I do not like anymore the sweet promise of “I will always be here for you,” only to realize that he didn’t meant it for me for a lifetime but for someone else. I no longer want to be
THE option after things get difficult and complicated. I no longer want the love stories everyone gets so hyped about in the social media.
I want and need a man who will stay — after the red carpet to the altar is rolled back to the storage room, after the miscarriage, after the problems at work, after the sleepless nights feeding and taking care of the third baby, after the problems in the business, after the miscommunication, after the differences in opinions, after the small and big fights, after the wrinkles in the eyes, after the changes in the body shape, after the kids are out in the world deciding how to make sense of their lives, after the tragedies and tribulations — after all these things, I want and need to see the same man beside me.
I believe somewhere out there, this man exists. But I could still be wrong though. But it doesn’t actually matter if I’ll get to spend my life partnering with this kind of man or not. My ultimate hope is that I get to experience a love which stays — and I know that that can be found in Jesus. My hope in meeting and marrying a man whose heart is after God’s own heart lies in the confidence that as long as Jesus is in my life, I know that a love which stays is greatly possible.