Tamed, she will be not;
always agile,
her flitting spirits
finds no home ashore a calm cove.
WE, the millennial women are drunk on confidence, success and a whole lot of freedom. We are self-sufficient and a better-half is not on our mandate for happiness, spare our feelings. There is so much of beauty and knowledge to be consumed that wasting even a second chasing pavements feels grossly erroneous . Time is precious and so is our youth - our experiences are our treasure troves.
And I for one, have often pondered, if our hedonistic pleasure in our Independence is our Achilles' heels?
It is the sea with its waves-
adrift and turbulent,
that beckons her:
howling her name,
whispering its sweetness,
until she surrenders to the madness...
There seems to be a general consensus within my fellow-kind of progressive, single, Quarter-aged-and-above ladies that when it comes to Love, we are running low on fuel! We'd much rather sleep our sorrows through, and talk to some (Organic) Food while at it. We are too happy counting the calories, spending weekends making elaborate savings plans slash budgets for travels, content with shopping ONLY what we need, trying to convince ourselves that Salads and Yoga are actually the way to go and regret all those years of Drunchies. Splurging is blasphemy (but we still indulge anyway and after, feel guilty about it) and beer is not only distasteful but is so much better for the hair! Vodka, I am so not having another hangover with you, my old friend.
Sangria brunches and spas suddenly seem more appetizing than pub-hopping and over-hauled dancing the night away.
We have pets, home decorations, language classes and trash TV to make-up for quality time. At social gatherings you steal glances of supposedly happy couples and muse at what their daily lives must be. You are in possession of this perverse pretend-power that allows you this unique perspective where every act of decoy becomes transparent, and every syllable uttered will be transcribed for hidden flaws.
"You wanted my attention? You have it. Now make it worth my time!"
Mercifully, we can hold both our drink and the tongue well - avoiding the thundering recollection of awkward social events, especially those that concern the well-wishers who have no business minding their own.
So, in this , all and merry land- what seems to be the trouble? It is this nagging feeling at the back of your head that you are strangely normal and very much so without a beau.
I would even go far enough to say that it's not so much the Presence but the gaping Absence of it- that is not the most comforting.
If I could be found on any island- it would be called I-G-N-O-R-A-N-C-E, and you'd find it very blissful. A demonstration of my fondness for this beloved state is my frequent attempts at nonchalantly dismissing 'love' references and replacing it with more conducive exponents of 'logos'.
Log #1- Date: 12th February (through 13th February)
On the said particular day, as I set about to busy myself with chores and all-important tasks- a desperate attempt to set order to the chaos in my physical environment; admittedly, I am short-fused in the mind. A rumble-tumble of sorts. I am unwittingly holding on to an image of multi-colored balloons with the hope of avoiding a step in the general direction of that unsullied ground.
 |
| Let's take the happy thoughts out for a walk! |
Just as my mind begins to saunter in the wayward direction, at which point exactly, I scold myself and begin to chalk-up a list of things to-do this weekend- stuff to buy, arrangements to make, re-visit my new year resolutions and my progress report on it, sulk about my over-weight, the loss of hair, or their graying, remember to plan my next travel and then consequently get hit by the speeding depletion of digits in my bank account.
Surprisingly, my brain can process all of the above at an exponential rate and I am, yet again, brought to a screeching hault and ungracefully dumped at the sign board reading 'Alert! Cupid's gone missing!'
Log #2- Date: 14th February
Yes, thank-you, world! For the umpteenth time, I was witness to your time-honoured tradition of Valentine's Day. It played out on my non-existent big flat-screen, only mine does not have a remote-control to switch to other channels. Oh and 'twas HD, 5-D and all the pizzazz- so I don't get to miss out on anything but the participation!
How people ever expressed love before 14th of Feb, actually became 14th of Feb, is an astounding feat ! I imagine history books would have records.
It's called Taj Mahal! Go build one, David Beckham ! And something that is non-corrosive, please!
In the meanwhile, Cupid and I are taking a break. We went out drinking once, but then taxes happened and everything became expensive! And since, in some twisted indignation I hold, I like to pay my own bills- these rendezvous got reduced to service taxes and VATs. In simple words, I could not afford it.
If that does not make the cut, in the world of the intertubes you are never too far way from decadence of hearts - splashed all across your screen. Oh, we are such exhibitionists- this YOLO generation of ours! and sadly that does not help my cause.
Log #3- Date: 15th February and since
This part, I call retrospection.
Growing up, as a teen, attraction and chemistry constituted the provenance of 'Love'. This implied, that there was time to pursue, to be wooed, to explore. Romancing somehow took precedence over 'going strong'. Enter the 20's- that part of your life where you are very certain about being uncertain; you are young, gutsy and arguably- desired. Predictably so, the thrill of the chase keeps you hooked. 'Steady' is really 'too soon' and 'a good, nice man' is boring. No, you want to feel ticklish with passion: is he spontaneous? Does he have a sense of humour? Is he a megalomaniac? Check.Check and Check!
Then comes the mid-20's. Here you are fast approaching a stage where you think you should commit, but, 'What If' , there are other possibilities. You tag along anyway until one midnight, the mother-of-all-epiphany hits you with that staunch smell of LIT and all of a sudden you find yourself surrounded by douchebags and Tomfoolery.
As you have grown older and more comfortable in your skin, you have also run out of time, options and patience. You know what you want and more importantly you know what you don't want. Now, that you have a plan, your follies accepted, your insecurities are on a healthy diet- you lack the prospect of the suitable boy.
It's all speed-dating from here.
An affliction we are all too familiar with - Finding the Right Man at the wrong time- where you keep thinking back to a time when you had it or Him, but you wouldn't settle.
Nothing has transpired between then and NOW- I still don't exactly regret the choices I have made; could I have been more foresighted about them? Yes. But that's the fun about life- all of our experiences and each more different than the other.
In the interim I have come to learn that love is not a formula ; it's not about things I like, things I don't like. It is layered, inexplicable and more mirrors than windows. Meaning, what we seek out of Love, or what Love means to each one of us is not the same- it invariably reflects what we need the most, and everything about our life until then. If it is anything; Love is not Simple. It can be needy, or it can be life-affirming, it can be caring, it can be honest, it can be challenging, it can be a reassurance, it can be many things and it can still be nothing.
Through the years - Speaking strictly as a sapiosexual, I get drawn to conversations like moths to light. I have come to learn that for me Love would be a friend, who I can share silence with and rant rubbish when I am upset- and HE would still get what I am saying. Bonus would be - A respect for individuality and a deep-rooted understanding of choices; not just mine, but everyone's. In that aspect, I guess my wait may just have to be a little longer than the rest, or alternatively, I may never find what I am looking for. Who Knows? All I know is that I am happy to fill my life with etcetras in the meanwhile and make a colorful collage, if I must.
And see you soon(preferably with a flute glass holding Mimosa or Bellini) ??
 |
| #Meh |
