claiming ever after

‘cindi-fucking-rella!’, exclaimed laura san giacomo playing kit de luca in pretty woman. we all laughed because we understood. when asked who we know gets his or her happy ending, it seems profanity is not only called for, it’s hilarious.

lately, i have given this issue much thought. not only because i realised i have found the one i’d want to share ever after with. ironically, because there were numerous occasions in recent past i felt i have lost him.



so boo-fucking-hoo, poor little old me. right? (i don’t know about you but not having my happy ending, rather than just questioning who has, is a better excuse for vulgarity.) you’re probably thinking, we all go through the up’s and down’s of relationships. what can i possibly add to the discussion that sappy love songs we tirelessly sing in karaoke’s have not overdone and turned into cliché?

frankly, nothing.

except that it’s mine. and since i’m the one feeling the blues everyone else is excluded. it’s extremely isolating. and against reason, i feel like i’ve been broken like no other person has been broken before.



when considering my latest relationship angst, my friend g in his unique brand of wisdom told me, ‘snowhite had to swallow a poisoned apple and die. ariel had to lose her voice. fiona had to turn into an ogre. all these for a happy ending. even in fairy tales, they did some hard work. who do you think you are that you expect real life should be any easier?’

for the butch men who can’t relate, let me translate my friend’s astuteness. snowhite’s prince had to accept that his beloved was cohabitating with seven cute little men before him. prince eric almost married the sea witch. shrek had to fight a dragon. but perhaps closer to real life, belle’s prince had to turn into a beast before finding his humanity. clearly, no matter what side of the gender fence you relate to, the road to happiness is paved in hell.

last night my friend id reminded me of desiderata. you know, strive to be happy. in our unspoken agreement, it was clear that what desiderata did not explain is that ‘striving’ is actually going through the sham, drudgery and broken dreams.

despite all these, here i am again. hoping that somehow things will turn out right.

don’t get me wrong. i know that richard gere will never climb up my fire exit (especially when the house i live in doesn’t have one) with his umbrella and a bunch of flowers, pledging his love. but it doesn’t have to be richard gere. i never really found him all that attractive. after all, i’m not a prostitute who looks like julia roberts (despite my intermittent, not-so-secret wish to be so). still, i’ve always believed that if i believe, someday i’ll have my fairy tale.

and like my heartache, this faith in happy endings is mine.

quick, give me that poison apple.

after sunset

a new day brings distraction but i miss him most when night falls.

with the setting of the sun, sadness creeps and comes unbidden. i don’t notice it until i feel a dull pain in my chest, followed by a profound sense of hollowness. it feels as if along with his goodbye came the disappearance of my insides. not the physical part of me. just the part that makes me human.

i do not profess to be a sentimental person. i don’t cry at sad movies. i barely remember birthdays. i don’t even remember the exact day we met. or fell in love. or moved in. i remember i lost the ring he gave me to wear as a sign of our commitment. he gave me another. i remember i lost a total of four rings. the last one he tried to find for days before finally giving up.

tonight in the dark, i remember exactly how he smells. how his eyes light up when i walk into the room. how happy he looked when we danced close to each other. how proud he feels of every decision i make in my life, even when i stand in shaky ground. i remember every single thing he has done for me that can be considered kind, loving or tender. i remember how often all of these happened in the last six years. i realise how little i have appreciated those moments and often thought it didn’t happen often enough.

i know how hopelessly flawed he was. my unforgiving eyes must have shown it. i know my sharp tongue has wounded him too many times. now, i remember how the pain is reflected in his physical reaction when i say something hurtful. how his hands shake in every fight. how he cried when he said he wanted to be a better person for me.

in daylight i can convince myself that i ran out of memories that bind me to him. until night falls and one more memory emerges from the darkness and jolt me back to the feeling, i felt the first time he said goodbye.

i want him to come back. but most of all, i want him to know that all those things did not go unnoticed.

i remember.

postscript

tonight he sent me a poem, i'll share with you how it ends:

you love me
you are my peace
what my heart longs for


tonight, i am not afraid of the memories, i welcome darkness again like a lost friend.