Is it any coincidence that the color of love is also the color of blood and pain?
In writing this I know I will be accused of being a sourgrape or even bitter. Whatever. In my humble opinion, Valentines is a terrible marketing ploy, an occasion orchestrated by Hallmark, et al. It’s like Christmas but sprinkled with saccharine charm and cheese. Honestly, do you need a special day to confess the depths and potency of your love? With all due respect to “thoughtful” people, I never believed in grandiose displays of affection. Roses and chocolates are absurdly theatrical and there’s something phony, insincere and scheming about them. I’m an advocate of the little constant things. Let me put it this way. No Ferrero Rocher but I will always have a Choc Nut handy whenever she needs one.
But anyway, what do I know about that crazy thing called love? Love and religion are my two most favorite arguments. And so I remember the metaphor made famous by the pa-autograph moments of my grade school days: Love is like a rosary full of mysteries. Come to think of it, it makes sense. Joyful, sorrowful and devious. Amen.
Being single and alone is no longer a stigma. Still, I wish those who give single people a funny look will realize that relationships are acquired taste; they are not for everyone. For me, the feeling they call love is overrated. I’ve confessed that I am a love atheist. I like sarcastic FU songs (the likes of Trains's Drops Of Jupiter and Lifehouse's Sick Cycle Carousel) and I have a playlist on my iPod called P.S. I Hate Love for such songs. Like that 3HO!3 song, L...O...V...E is just another word I’ll never learn to pronounce. It’s a concept I cannot grasp, like the laws of physics. It’s a journey I just don’t have the map for.
Who can blame me for being cynical? Life did not show me enough reasons to believe that relationships are worth it. Fact: My parents did not exactly have a happy marriage. Fact: I spent half my college life playing counsellor to my squabbling mag-ON friends. Even now, I’ve been privy to the intrigues and scandals of my married friends and they run to me for advice and confessions (And not once have I asked: Why me? What do I know about this stuff?). Fact: One of my best friends is happily divorced with only her great kids as proud reminders of what used to be. True story: One Tita is currently in distress because her only son just fell in love with the neighbour’s help. See what I mean?
Fact: In the handful of times that I tried to take a plunge, something else in my life goes wrong or I am placed in a compromising and impossible situation. Like life telling me that I can’t have my cake and eat it too.
Oh and did I mention the pain? That if I want to relive it I will just watch One More Chance over and over again.
I rest my case. We live in a world where the Ted Mosbys play second fiddle and the Barney Stinsons get all the action. After all (as quoted from 500 Days of Summer), women prefer men with Brad Pitt’s face and Jesus’ abs. And we have Cosmo magazine to blame. I refuse to take part in that blah nonsense.
Sometimes it bothers me that I like doing things alone. I am happy with my status quo. I live alone and I love the peace and quiet of solitude. I can go on self-dates; walking around the mall by myself or jogging alone. I don’t like eating out so I’ll never be placed in the awkward situation where I am alone and a loser in a fancy restaurant. I don’t need to be with someone to enjoy coffee, a book or movie. And if I want to be around people, I have my family and very select circle of friends. I never felt the sense of needing someone in my life or having this void I need to fill. Yes, you can say I feel complete.
I am living my life and that’s all that matters. How can you measure the promise of love when it’s weighing against a chance that comes only once?
Friends have called me commitment phobic, like most guys. I’m not confirming nor denying. It’s just that I have too much on my plate right now and I see relationship as a dessert. Something for later. Or something I can skip altogether but I’ll still feel full and satisfied.
I know what people will say. That I have NOT met the right person. But maybe I’m too stubborn that even Destiny has given up on me. Then again, destiny and ever-after be damned. Say what you want. I’d rather be ALONE than UNHAPPY. If you know what I mean.
If it’s your thing, happy Valentines to you!
***
So tell me isn’t happiness
Worth more than a gold diamond ring?
I’m willing to do anything
To calm the storm in my heart
Not looking for a miracle
Just a reason to believe