“It doesn’t have to be that way. It is not going to happen with me.”
They laughed at me. I was sweet, innocent and childish, my older group of friends told me, among other things. I insisted I would not face the same problems as they did.In a few minutes of uninhibited openness, I shared how I was in for a blissful future, a union extraordinaire. (Read the entire post before making conclusions.)
It could be a story from a fairy tale. She, with a heart filled with the love of God. A heart that seeks His pleasure. “A sweet, gentle, pleading, innocent, dedicated, sympathetic, loyal, untutored, adoring female heart.” He, with a loving, comforting, supportive, insanely dedicated heart for her, that sought her happiness.
This union completes both of them. “By her ease and liveliness, his mind is softened, his manners improved, and “from his judgement, information and knowledge of the world, she received benefit of great importance.” Some of these lines were from Jane Austen and they are etched in my memory for ever. But there is a reason why I can dislike Jane Austen, because I think such a marriage can indeed know what connubial felicity really is.
But still, Valentine’s Day, did not mean anything to me.
Not because of the dark roots of Valentine’s Day that has the moral police going berserk, or the fatwas against it, with it being an “imitation of another people.”
Not because of my dislike of the crass commercialization – where “love” is bought and sold, where corporations promote the event so they could make $18.7 billion in sales. Where they need to create special days such as these for money.
Not because of my dislike of the pressure to show one’s affection in a certain way, on a single day in an entire year. Or for love to be packaged overwhelmingly to mean the lustful love between two individuals.
For a society as the one here with such overt displays of sexual love, 50% of first marriages, 67% of second and 74% of third marriages end in divorce.*
Not for anything else.
But simply because I do not have a woman who I am married to, or who I would marry, or who would marry me, as yet. This is an idea.
A dream that has temporarily been put off till I can find my feet. Someone as needy as I currently am could not be trusted to be the support or mean the world for another individual.
While women and men want to be desired and yet resist others’ unwelcome advances, spending countless hours studying their reflection in the mirror – admiring it, hating it, wondering what others thought of it, something about inner beauty gets lost in the conundrum. Where a 7/10 on the scale of physical attraction trumps a 10/10 in inner beauty that would make for a blissful living. I hope I am not one of those making the wrong choices in decisions with such trade-offs, when the time to make the decision comes.
What Valentine’s Day did teach me was the power of a clean heart sans any resentment, a general feeling of happiness with everyone . As with anyone else, I falter, and hurt others, or get hurt. But it is the power to forgive and patch up that separates people.
I wonder if men and women can ever break out of this infinite loop, and be in freedom. In a feeling of freedom. With wings flapping. And light. Light enough to find oneself in the skies. High enough that, when one looks down below, those stuck in cycles of bad blood, and resentment look puny. With a life of pure, unadulterated happiness. Of the kind that simply runs out of scale. Of contentment. Of God’s pleasure.