2007-02-14 - 10:04 a.m.
Every February 14, I dressed in all black and walked alone in the crowd --- a minority in a coupledom.
Last year, when you said you loved me too, I'd thought you'd have been the one to help me stop this typically cynic's strange habit.
Before high-school graduation, I'd never really cared much about Valentine's Day. I started resenting it during college. My very first love was my own classmate, a tall hunk whom I called J.B. in my diary. My first college semester had been beautiful, with his presence lighting up my days. He'd been nice and sweet to me. But I knew that I'd been more like a little sister in his eyes. Unfortunately, I'd been afraid to let him know my real feelings for him.
When J.B. finally had a girlfriend, I'd tried my hardest to bury the pain. I'd only cried one night. As a good friend, I knew that I should've been happy for him too.
When my college campus was throwing a Valentine's Day event, I'd shown up wearing all black. It was the beginning of my constant effort to shield my fragile side from the world. Doesn't black identify a strong character --- instead of only as gloomy as a funeral outfit? Besides, I dislike pink. Pink's much more suitable for a sweet girly-girl. Sweet like a heart-shaped chocolate I love to eat. (By the way, that kind of chocolate is the only thing I love about Valentine's Day.)
"Any sensible guy would always feel so lucky to have a sweet girl's love like yours."
Really? Someone once told me the same thing. He was also the one I loved after J.B. Too bad, we live (too) far away from each other. He's in South Asia, while I'm in Southeast. His comment on one of my blog entries started our friendship. It took six months full of e-mails, messenger chats, and photo-exchange for me to finally trust him with my telephone numbers. His voice is warm and friendly. I've always loved hearing him laugh. He's also witty, although serious and mature as well.
Was it my fault that I fell in love?
Unfortunately, once again I was afraid that he'd have rejected me and stopped being my friend if I'd told him the truth. I was also afraid of the possible uncertainties, if he'd have positively responded to my real feelings for him. Don't you find lots of cynics who question the possibility of any long-distant relationship, especially when you never even meet each other in the real world yet?
When an American girl told him online that she loved him, he asked my opinion. As a best friend, I gave him my most clich� advice: "Just follow your heart."
And in the end, that's exactly what he's always done. It started from letting that love grow inside him and slowly consume him, like ivy hugging a stone pillar. He's still holding on to the uncertainties I still fear. He's always even forgiven her, through her constant infidelities and apologies after that. So easily. I thought that girl could've made him happier that I would have. Perhaps you --- like most of them --- might think of me as one big, fat hypocrite. Perhaps you might also doubt my rigidity, in case that girl had never hurt him.
I can only stick to my honourable role as a best friend, someone he can always talk to whenever he feels sad. He's always respected me a lot. Even when I finally confessed to him about my real feelings for him, he was never angry and pushing me away like I'd feared he would have earlier. I knew it was too late. He said he'd always love her. All I know is that I just want him to be happy.
Then why did I still feel sad? I'm sure you wondered about that too as you read my blog.
"He's a fool. He can't see how special you are."
Really? Well, he thinks I'm the greatest friend in the world. Doesn't that mean I'm considered special too in his eyes? Besides, don't you think that love can't be compelled?
Two years ago on Valentine's Day, I wore all black again. I chose to watch a horror flick instead of romance. I preferred listening to hard rock, not those sickeningly romantic love songs on the radio. Even one of the teenlit series of "The Baby-Sitters' Club" by.Ann M.Martin called "Abby's Un-Valentine" has become my favourite book. I just love the way Abby Stevenson, a tomboyish sports-fanatic and a cynic in most people's eyes thinks. To me, she's very realistic.
Perhaps that's what I feel whenever I see the random couples around me. They look picture-perfect happy, or is it just a play to make the lonely souls feel jealous and downright insecure? Probably, the husband actually likes to hit his wife at home. Or your prince charming of a boyfriend turns out to be a cheating kind. How long a fairy-tale can ever really last? Does "happily-ever-after" really exist, or is it only an illusion to help you sleep peacefully at night --- like a child heading for a sweet dream?
I don't know. I'm tired of the social demands, especially for women. Is it true that you'll be considered prettier and far more precious when you have a boyfriend? Is it true that you're considered out-of-the-dating-market already, only because you're a 25-year-old woman and not married yet like your parents' expectation --- especially your dearest mother who doesn't (seem to) ever want to understand your point of view on this matter? Is it (supposed to be) that easy?
No, I'm not that desperate. To me, love is not just a game nor even a test. A spouse isn't just merely a status, the one you can always show off to your colleagues like some trophy you've won. To me, a spouse is (supposed to be) a lover and a true best friend who can make me feel safe and give me comfort, and also will (still) allow me to be myself. Okay, I understand the meaning of compromise. But, will we ever want to sacrifice everything for love?
Or is just my effort to deny my own loneliness? Eventhough I tend to feel lonely too sometimes, I don't want to be hasty. Don't be too picky, they say? This is my life. They don't make the rules. I also don't want to regret anything later on, just because I pick randomly as they always suggest. It's so damn easy for them to just say things like that!
"You're too careful."
Am I? Then how come I fell in love with you too? You, who also left me a comment on my blog entries. I don't know why, your blog entries always made me feel sad. I often cried reading them.
You've been a lot more unhappy than I really am. I never thought that I'd have found someone desperately aching for one true love, even more than money. Your unhappy childhood has saddened me. You've grown up without confidence nor the feelings of security. You've even been a kleptomaniac once. Ironically, your family is financially secure. I mean, you could still attend a college in New York, although (I don't know why you believed) your family just wanted to see you fail.
You had two girlfriends. But they ended up sticking together and hating you for no reasons. What had you done? You had no idea. You just wanted to survive from all your troubles in the world and find true love.
I'm sure those who have been hurt (a lot) before will have serious trust issues with other people. Maybe I just wanted to help you heal all your pain inside. I wanted you to believe that you too deserved real love, despite your past and what you looked like.
I couldn't believe you if you too were like that at first. But I'm sure, I did love you back then. It took a month since we met online for me to tell you how I'd really felt for you. Why? I just followed my intuitions as I continued reading your blog. Besides, what was I afraid of?
Since you said you loved me too, I'd felt such extraordinary joy. I couldn't stand waiting for our next conversations --- full of laughter and your teasings, although we'd never even really met in real life. At first, you'd suggested that we should've celebrated Valentine's Day together in NY. But, since I couldn't afford the whole trip, we'd decided to chat online again. I'd even let you see me on a web-cam.
"God, you are so beautiful!"
Am I? Then why did you sound so sad in my earphone?
"This is so unfair! Why are we so far away like this?"
Damn it! I felt the same way too. Completely shattered inside, especially with the sad fact that we also weren't in the same religion. What was I supposed to do? I wanted to be with you, but having trouble with these obstacles. I knew you understood. I realised that I had to understand you as well.
"I'm sorry, I can't do this," you finally said. "I can't hold you and kiss you, and it hurts. I can't do this anymore."
"Then what do you want?" I asked. I quickly shut the web-cam off. I didn't want you to see me cry.
"I don't know."
"I'll tell you what," I suddenly suggested. "If you can find another girl over there who'll love you and you love in return, I'll be okay. As long as you're happy."
Silence for a while. Your next reply on the screen saddened me even more:
"Reva, I don't know what to say.:("
"Then don't say anything.:) It's okay," I typed back and clicked 'enter'. Sorry, I lied. But I decided to let you go anyway. I didn't want to make you suffer more in loneliness and uncertainties.
So, we were finally back as just friends. For you, I'd tried my best. I still read your blog to the end. Your third girlfriend was rather cold and distant, so you two broke up really quick. As a friend, I'd tried consoling you as much as I could. You accused me as na�ve, like a child who couldn't understand reality. Slowly, the distance grew between us. We started to argue a lot. When you read my blog entry about my cynicism in love, you accused me in denial of my own loneliness. You even implied that I had no idea about love. I was angry because you wouldn't (want to) see my point of view. You'd even accused me as easy, because we'd only known each other for a month and I'd already told you I loved you.
Then why did you say you loved me too? Was I a fool, easily taken by that?
You never really wanted to explain that to me. I thought that it had never meant a damn thing to you. But you were offended when I told you that. Did I find you easy as well? Maybe. I'd never found anyone so desperate in wanting love. Poor you.
But I still loved you too much to say those mean things to you. Even when you accused me as the kind who overly-simplyfied matters, I was the one who gave in and apologized to you. Especially when I hadn't meant to hurt your feelings on your birthday. I didn't know that you despised your own birthday, although you insisted that you'd told me earlier. You didn't even want to explain why. You just accused me for being an unloyal friend, because good friends were supposed to understand and be there for one another.
But how could I ever be able to be that kind of friend to you, when you never really wanted to open up to me? Didn't you once say, "Reva, sometimes I feel incredibly close to you I want to scream, because you're so far away" ?
I don't know. After your last e-mail that told me you'd understood that I'd never meant to hurt you, I've never heard from you again.
My last few e-mails remain unreplied. They say, you're just a name in the cyberworld. Forget it.
I can't. To me, you're more than just a name.
That's why I'll be wearing all black on Valentine's Day this year. You know why.
-the end-
