How do I know that you are the One?
I see around me couples who have been together for years, some married with mortgages and kids, some who run businesses together; others separated by distance due to dilemmas of work or visas, yet knowing that this distance, this separation, is only temporary, secure in the knowledge they have something stronger, something more permanent, more lasting.
Is this really true, though? I cannot judge; there may be currents of which I’m unaware, but these problems are not mine. All I can see is the surface and what I can see looks enticing.
Am I promiscuous in my continued search for the Right One? Is it not better manners simply to settle, and to settle down? Make do. Learn to compromise. I’ve seen enough who have done it and they look happy enough. Perhaps it’s high time I give it a try.
Perhaps.
There is this longing to find someone who gets you, who truly understands, and is willing, is able, to meet all the horrors with a brave face, to know you for who you are, and still love you.
Love. Such a difficult word.
More often than we would like to admit, love is illusory. It comes and it goes; it does not last, not against the vagaries of time and everyday realities, yes? What happens when you wake up one day and realize you no longer love the person sleeping next to you? What would you do, what would you say? What could you say?
Truth. Such a difficult lie.
My dear, you have an uphill task before you. I have told you why: there was once Another, and then, one night, no more. It was so easy; we sort of just knew it even before it came, and when we both agreed on breaking up, on not being together anymore, we were far less concerned about our feelings than how we were to break this news to our friends whom, at times, seemed more involved, more invested than we were in this brief affair.
It was a fairy tale my friends had wanted for me, badly. And I had believed I wanted it too.
After, they would reveal that they saw it coming. It was a rebound, at the end. It saved me from the hurt of the earlier end with my Other Another; I would have drowned in my own sea of grief and loss otherwise.
My friends saw it, because they did not see in my eyes the same spark, the same delight and passion, that I had with my First Ex. These things are true, and easy to observe, for my friends take their guardianship of me rather seriously.
And now, much later, there’s nothing left. There never was, my friends tell me; they had suspected it all along. I had once jokingly told my Second Ex, “You missed out on a good thing, babe” and my Second Ex had answered, “I know.”
But does it matter? There is a sea of people out there, millions who could potentially be ‘The One’ — there must be more than one, surely? There must be so many; all it takes is a chance encounter, and then…
Choices. Such difficult fortune.
Years ago, I remember thinking I was not too different from Tom Ripley, Matt Damon’s character in the film The Talented Mr. Ripley. His hunger for love, for affirmation, for the light of someone who would want him, it was his undoing. He’d never settle, never find what he wanted.
These days, I find closer kinship to Tom’s object of affection, Dickie Greenleaf:
K: btw, the ex (apparently my conscience now, haha) just called me over lunch to remind me not to mislead all these sweet young things
M: well, u do have a way of getting ppl to fall for u
K: is it my fault if ppl fall for me?
M: in all honesty, i think that you tend to make ppl feel good based on the nice words you say to them
M: and you usually have a lot of nice things to say to everyone
M: so everyone feels like they're the most important person in your life
M: so i don't blame anyone for falling for u
And a conversation that had begun in jest suddenly became far more serious. This is the danger I fear for you, my dear. Those three words are much too easy; they slip from between your beautiful lips would that I allow it. But I won’t. Not yet.
This sea of us; there are too many choices, too many temptations. There will always be someone more interesting, more dynamic, more appealing, just for that moment… and that single instance destroys everything. (Assuming there’s anything built up to destroy in the first place.)
I don’t want to hurt you, my dear. I don’t want to be hurt either. We have both had enough of that.
Or do we?
What have I learned? That I cannot think for my lovers, that I cannot live their lives for them and worry their troubles away. If you would hurt, if you would suffer, that will happen however we struggle to escape it, however honest our intentions. I cannot stop you from falling in love with me any more than I can stop myself from falling in love again, with you, this time. (I dare not even hope that it would be the last time.)
It is a risk we both take.
This sea of us; there are so many choices, so many temptations, so many people struggling to connect. But it is not impossible. We do connect. We do. We connect. To allow fear and past pain prevent us from admitting this would be a mistake. And I don’t believe in mistakes, just lessons. I keep learning. That’s life. We’re all beginners at this.
How do I know that you are the One? I don’t.
The truth is there are too many choices for love. There is always someone better, isn’t there? But. Here’s another thing I’ve learned: The trick to it is simply realizing that someone else better is right in front of you, always.
Always.
The true choice for love is simply risk. Take a chance. This sea of us would drown and engulf us all; but we have found each other, and I would clasp you to my bosom, my dear, your hands in mine, and let us swim and struggle and see where this take us.