Moving to a new city is always exciting- new job, new life, new people- New You! I firmly believe that we as people, are constantly trying to reinvent ourselves from time to time in our own eyes- fixing our flaws, bettering our dressing sense, adopting a more positive outlook towards life and just becoming better versions of our own selves. Hence this new version of me, in this new city, had a lot to look forward to- new places, new stories, new home and of course, new men!
After spending 20 days in a hotel room, with a very basic routine of going to work, coming back, watching a sappy movie, texting my friends, talking to the parents and sleeping- I finally went out one night for a party one of my friends invited me to. And there I met this guy- tall, big smile, twinkling eyes, and a lot of flirtatious glancing from across the room!
As he walked towards me to make conversation, I wondered why was he attracted to me in a room full of pretty girls! Maybe it was the black dress? Or the 'she's new here' vibe? Or was it me laughing too much from having downed three glasses of wine already? We were already conversing before I had a chance to figure out the answer to this ongoing confusion in my head!
As I sipped on my fourth glass of wine, he became more charming, his travel tales became more interesting, and I was surprised to know how similar our family backgrounds and lifestyles were. He asked me if I wanted to go out for a walk and I was game, obviously! But the moment we stepped out, his smile started to remind me of how much I missed Mr. Right's smile. And from there on, I lost track of our conversation, as all I could think about was Mr. Right, his smile, his laughter, his talks, his stories, his face, his touch, his scent- Him! It was in that moment, I realised how perfect Party Guy was- but it didn't matter, because he was not 'him'.
With my mind obviously not being in the present situation, I wasn't surprised when I twisted my ankle and was just about to fall when Party Guy saved me- and there was a moment- he leaned in and I turned away. I apologized to him, told him I was in love with someone else, and ran away without looking back- obviously at a lousy speed, considering my twisted ankle.
I surprised myself that night! Was I really in love? Or was it the wine exaggerating? Sober, I would admit to having feelings for Mr. Right, but I wouldn't just call it love. Not Yet. Why? I didn't think I was at that point in my life where I could afford to fall in love. That night, trying to sleep, I craved Mr. Right's company- I missed him; so much. And I thought to myself about not being ready for love. But that's the funny thing about life, it happens, whether or not we're ready!
Ironic, isn't it? I'm the kind of person who always has a plan and sticks to it, so as to be able to control the outcome. But this took me off guard; and I wondered what was I going to do about it? Was there anything I could do about it? Would I ever be able to tell Mr. Right? How would he react? Would he want to stop seeing me considering he's made it amply clear that he doesn't have and will never have any feelings for me? Haunted by all these questions, i decided to term it 'Infatuation'- I refused to accept it as love. Consider it my escape mechanism, while I'm fully aware that the reality doesn't change even if I decide to escape it. But I'm still hoping it will! Why? Because I'm not ready for love! And sometimes, if you pretend for long enough, you start to believe it.
But what I'd like you to take from here is not how I choose to escape life while it happens; but to understand that we're never ready in life- for anything. For better or for worse, your plans won't always work out, and sooner than later you'd know why they didn't. And I'm hoping I'd know the reason of mine not working out too! Till then, this is how I'm gonna deal- and while I do that, no more party guys! Because how could I deal with all that with Mr. Right constantly on my mind?
After spending 20 days in a hotel room, with a very basic routine of going to work, coming back, watching a sappy movie, texting my friends, talking to the parents and sleeping- I finally went out one night for a party one of my friends invited me to. And there I met this guy- tall, big smile, twinkling eyes, and a lot of flirtatious glancing from across the room!
As he walked towards me to make conversation, I wondered why was he attracted to me in a room full of pretty girls! Maybe it was the black dress? Or the 'she's new here' vibe? Or was it me laughing too much from having downed three glasses of wine already? We were already conversing before I had a chance to figure out the answer to this ongoing confusion in my head!
As I sipped on my fourth glass of wine, he became more charming, his travel tales became more interesting, and I was surprised to know how similar our family backgrounds and lifestyles were. He asked me if I wanted to go out for a walk and I was game, obviously! But the moment we stepped out, his smile started to remind me of how much I missed Mr. Right's smile. And from there on, I lost track of our conversation, as all I could think about was Mr. Right, his smile, his laughter, his talks, his stories, his face, his touch, his scent- Him! It was in that moment, I realised how perfect Party Guy was- but it didn't matter, because he was not 'him'.
With my mind obviously not being in the present situation, I wasn't surprised when I twisted my ankle and was just about to fall when Party Guy saved me- and there was a moment- he leaned in and I turned away. I apologized to him, told him I was in love with someone else, and ran away without looking back- obviously at a lousy speed, considering my twisted ankle.
I surprised myself that night! Was I really in love? Or was it the wine exaggerating? Sober, I would admit to having feelings for Mr. Right, but I wouldn't just call it love. Not Yet. Why? I didn't think I was at that point in my life where I could afford to fall in love. That night, trying to sleep, I craved Mr. Right's company- I missed him; so much. And I thought to myself about not being ready for love. But that's the funny thing about life, it happens, whether or not we're ready!
Ironic, isn't it? I'm the kind of person who always has a plan and sticks to it, so as to be able to control the outcome. But this took me off guard; and I wondered what was I going to do about it? Was there anything I could do about it? Would I ever be able to tell Mr. Right? How would he react? Would he want to stop seeing me considering he's made it amply clear that he doesn't have and will never have any feelings for me? Haunted by all these questions, i decided to term it 'Infatuation'- I refused to accept it as love. Consider it my escape mechanism, while I'm fully aware that the reality doesn't change even if I decide to escape it. But I'm still hoping it will! Why? Because I'm not ready for love! And sometimes, if you pretend for long enough, you start to believe it.
But what I'd like you to take from here is not how I choose to escape life while it happens; but to understand that we're never ready in life- for anything. For better or for worse, your plans won't always work out, and sooner than later you'd know why they didn't. And I'm hoping I'd know the reason of mine not working out too! Till then, this is how I'm gonna deal- and while I do that, no more party guys! Because how could I deal with all that with Mr. Right constantly on my mind?
I totally agree, only when you are ready you are not afraid to call things by its names. Although maybe it's also because we are afraid of how big it might be, how much it involves - the word 'love' is just loaded with meanings. But it's very important to be honest with yourself, call it whatever you like, but don't deny it - trying to meet new guys - because in the end of the day there's no escape, your own feelings always creep on you.
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