A few weeks ago, I started this draft after talking to my cousin who is also a writer. It was a little rant-slash-conversation about dating and men after I had an all-out, unfiltered conversation with my best friend over the same topic.
Relationships are tough. Dating is difficult. I hate “going out there” and “making myself marketable” for the sake of “not living the rest of my life alone”. Pardon the overuse of the quotations, it’s just I don’t necessarily agree with those. To an extent.
Because I am “out there”—or here, I guess, wherever the fuck here may be. I am not closing doors (except the ones I’ve closed behind me). And I don’t have to make myself marketable. I’m not changing who I am to fit someone’s idea of a partner
but role playing is a thing I am open to, but there is a time and place for that. And I’m not going to smile more so that people find me more approachable—I know I have a resting bitch face, DEAL WITH IT. Finally, I do not mind being alone. I will have my (future) dogs. And modernity and technology have made it so I can have kids either though artificial insemination or through adoption, the latter of which I prefer better.
And like I said, dating is difficult.
Most people would rather “go out for drinks” than “go on a date” because it’s more casual. No one’s ready to fully commit these days, and who can blame them? You have apps that show you a list of the many people who are interested in you, and you can hook up with them with no strings attached. You can even forget about them after your first encounter, then move on to the next one. Catching feelings is like catching a disease in today’s dating culture.
I am a cynic. A series of shitty, failed relationships does that to you. I’ve been on both sides—been fucked over, and fucked someone over; been used, and used someone else; been cheated on, and cheated on someone. I do not want another rerun. So I go in looking for something casual, something fun. Nothing serious because serious does not sound fun right now. But I am not opposed to the idea of fun eventually evolving to serious, if that’s even possible… I am a paradox.
I have walls built all around me, and only a few people have a key to the special doors that let them in. Even then, not all doors lead to the same multi-layered wall system I built.
I proclaim: “I don’t need no man! I am an independent woman!” And truly believe that. I don’t need the guy who tells me I cannot go out drinking on a Tuesday night, when I have work Wednesday morning. I don’t need the guy who stops me from hanging out with my guy friends just because he gets jealous. I don’t need the guy who makes me feel bad for getting ahead on a television show because he falls asleep mid-episode. No. I’m gonna do what I want, and *that* kind of guy is not one of them.
But then, there’s this other side of me…
As I started to get back in the game, my best friend was able to point out what my type is. After 26 goddamned years, believing I had no type because all my exes look different, apart from the fact they’re all Filipino (a quality no longer in my list, but I’m not opposed either), she came up with a shortlist:
- well-groomed beards, because hnnng
- tall (man’s gotta be Yoongi‘s height when he’s barefoot at the very least or it isn’t going to work)
- physically fit—doesn’t need to have 6-pack abs, but must be able to lift a keg—BUT NOT BEEFY, please… I like ’em strong and lean
- able to make me laugh, which (if you know me) isn’t very difficult
- can actively participate in occasional witty banter
- well-read !!!
While I may be a superficial bitch for wanting someone tall and fit—let’s be honest, as a short Asian girl, pretty much everyone is taller than I am—I place the most importance in the last two things. I have dated dull guys in the past (sorry not sorry) who do not read as a hobby and frankly, I craved the intellectual stimulation. They didn’t have to recite shit from Camus or Foucault or quote Tolkien or Rowling, but it would have been nice if they knew a little bit. Someone I could share my nerdiness with, because some of my fandoms are life, and I find it rude if he falls asleep while we watch Star Wars.
Obviously, there is more to the list, like being responsible, emotionally mature, financially stable, blah blah blah… I’m not a completely superficial. And even then…
Are these things too much to ask for?
While I am not as frustrated as Charlotte, I am so fucking tired of meeting someone who I thought is decent but turns out to be another asshole. No, I am not looking to settle down (but I am slowly getting tired of dating too…), just another person whose company can make these dreary days more bearable, and maybe a little more entertaining.
I’d be lying if I didn’t say want to find a Jesse to my Céline.
In the end, if you get through all the walls I’ve built, you’ll still find a little sappy, embarrassingly little romantic who wants to find someone who will look at her thinking “goddamn, how did I get so lucky? is this real life?”, who will spend hours with her walking around a strange city while they talk about anything that comes to mind, who will fly all the way to Vienna in December just to get a chance to see her again, who will write a book about their time together in hopes that she finds it… God, I really love this series.
Although the problem is: going out there risks getting my heart broken again, at least what little of it is left, if anything is still there. And sometimes, I don’t even feel like there’s even anything there… like I’m an empty shell. But I can still feel… It’s terrifying. That’s why I run away at the first sign of commitment. Because I know, either I will break his or he will break mine. Eventually it happens. Shit always happen.
Even in Before Midnight, someone fucked up, that’s why they ended up fighting for half the film.