Romantic Things I Want to Experience

 

I was a romantic. Note: Was. At twenty-three years old, I had my fair share of breakups and disappointments. I used to believe on this fairytale-kind of love, the kind where the boy would do everything for me, to win my love. That's not the reality, though. Reality is harsh, love is cut-throat. Love is an industry where only the best and the adored wins. I know that sounds pessimistic and hopeless, but you'd have to understand, this is coming from a girl notoriously known for writing love poems and love letters. There are certain things I've accepted that wasn't real, or at least, wasn't real for me. That fairytale love is one of those things. 

Still, I can't help but to hope for the things I've never experienced. All my experiences were training material to harden the outer layer of my shell. For the past few years, I was just constantly suffering from the lack of reciprocation and consideration. I don't want to tap my own back and feel sorry for myself, I wasn't the perfect partner, I don't think there is such a thing; but what I would say is that I was a trying partner. I was faithful, I was patient, and I was stuck. I guess, for the longest time, I always believed that I had to prove my devotion through my tolerance of the heart breaks, then, and only then, if I prove it enough, I will eventually win their love, and they would love me back. Eventually. If I just go through the pain, and if I sacrifice more of my peace, then surely, they'll see how much I love them, and they'll love me back. 

Though I carry the tiniest hope for better romances, I, honestly, am so sick of love. It's the kind of disgust that makes me look at everybody with some sort of doubt and fear. It's the kind of disgust that makes me want to crawl on my bed, hide under my sheets, and pull my feet under the cover because the Love monster will pull them if I was not cautious enough. I developed some kind of avoidance from all of it, and ever since my most recent breakups, I navigate love in a transactional way. What do I get from this? Is what I'm getting enough? Am I giving too much? 

But, alas, a girl will always be a girl. Girls are hopeful, we are full of love even when, sometimes, it feels like the supply had already run dry. We yearn for things we can feel something from, and even though I developed a fear of love and heartbreaks, there are romantic things that I still hope I get to experience, even at least, just once.

Love Letters. 

I want to, at least once, get a love letter. In this day and age, communicating has never been easier. The "hmu" and booty call culture has been spreading like wildfire. But how romantic would it be for someone to write me a letter?

They would go to the store, spend fifteen minutes searching for the paper that screams my personality, they would look around the aisle and maybe they'd see a stack of paper with ribbons drawn on the edges, tainted the shade of pink I specifically like, and they would say, "Yes, yes, she would like this one."

They would go home, they would sit down, and they would crumple three pieces of paper, throwing them on the floor, just because the letter "I" didn't look pretty enough, because the first letter of my name matters. They all matter. How romantic, how considerate, for someone to be so in love with me that even the letters written on a 5-dollar piece of paper matters, that they would consider the creases every fold would put on the paper before they fold them, that they would slowly put the letter in an envelope so carefully, trying not to create a flaw, because in their heart they believed I deserved more than a creased-up piece of paper. 

I yearn for something more than a simple text or call. I yearn to matter, I want someone to know that I don't want a "wyd?" at three in the morning, I want someone to know I like ribbons on the edges of my papers, that I like pressed yellow Marigolds, put in the envelope with a letter so carefully written, I want for someone to know just exactly who I am, and what my desires are. I yearn to be known. 

To be put first. 

Honestly, nowadays, people are so caught-up with our own desires, perceptions, and self that even when we're in love, we constantly think of only ourselves and what benefits us. Unfortunately, I've fallen victim to this fear and mentality as well. Since my most recent break-up, it has been difficult for me to see past my own needs and fears, because in my past relationships, I've put the other person first so many times that I feel like I lost parts of myself that is willing to sacrifice.

But love is sacrifice. It is putting someone else above your own selfish needs and your past fears. It is looking past everything that had given them scars, and decide that I am worth all of it, and if they have to do it all over again knowing all paths would lead to me, they would. And here's the thing: it is not that I am unwilling to put someone first, I am. For the right one, I am. What I need is to be put first too. In the list of all their dreams, ambitions, people they love, things they cherish, I would, not only make the top five, but I would be included in their first reason why. 

I want to be factored in, in all their dreams, fears, and plans, I yearn to be in it. How romantic it is for someone to have the dream to finish school, and the next sentence would be "because I want to give her a good life." How romantic it is for someone to have the dream to buy a house, and they would ask what color I'd like the windows to be. How romantic it is for someone to fear commitment, but then, they'd laugh with their friends, and say, "but for her, I'd do it." How romantic it is to be considered and involved. 

I want to experience a love so strong that my lover would run after me because letting me go would be hell to earth, that in their millions of reasons why, I would be first on the list, that when they think of a prayer or a dream, my name would be their first thought. I am sick of waiting for someone alone, I am sick of running after someone, I am sick of putting someone first. I want to be, for once, the person someone is running after to. I want to be, for once, someone's first.

Commitment and Future

My grandmother always tell me that when someone knows, they know. At first, I didn't quite understand. As I get older, I started needing more in romantic relationships. I didn't just want to go on coffee dates or walk around the mall, the little movie dates aren't sufficient, I needed more. And that is the knowing my grandmother always told me about. I want someone to look at me and know. 

I need to admit, I am not perfect. I don't think anyone is. Yet, still, I want someone to look at the scrapbook of my imperfections and flaws, and then, in just a split second, decide that I am what they've been looking for, I want them to know. 

How romantic it is for someone to look at all my fears, my flaws, the things I have not unpacked, and the things I have not processed, and decide ultimately, that this is it. I am it. All the ghosts of the past and the wounds that took years to heal all led in this moment, with me. I want someone to see my mosaic heart, and in a split second, without a doubt, without a question that pops in their head for the need to double check, they'd know. 

In Lana Del Rey's Margaret, there was a lyric that especially stuck with me, "If you're asking yourself: how do you know? then that's your answer, the answer is no." 

I don't think I'm a romantic, still. I managed to dismantle the fairytale dreams of love I used to have at seventeen. There was some sort of acceptance that the romantic movies and books I consumed during my teenage years only happens once in a blue moon,  or maybe, never at all, and according to my track record, they surely aren't happening to me. Yet, maybe, it was the same books and the same movies that managed to put a line of hope in my chest, that even though it wasn't a year ago, or not even right now, maybe, it could be soon. A girl can only dream. 

Here's to the love we wish to have, 

Indira.