I just read @nakedconvos, ‘SCARS’. I hate such stories. They make me sad. For a silly reason, I know, but I don’t care. To sound more petulant, I’m listening to Anita Baker’s ‘Fairytales’ as I type, hating every guy that has ever been in my life, for good or bad. Hating them for hurting me, for not staying, for making me let go. It’s silly, I know. But I’m having a moment here, do you mind? *sigh*
When I was ypunger, I used to dream of the perfect romance. There was really not ‘prototype’ around for me to work with, so I made do with my wild imagination. And the 90’s Hollywood ofcourse. In my fantasy, I’d meet Mr. Right in early uni days, we’d either hate or love each other from the start, or maybe just be friends and grow into eternal romance. Either way, we’d both be kids and then grow old together. He’d know me in and out, love me through and through and be my dream come true. I’d be his biggest fan, his buddy, his sounding board and object of his maddest fantasy. We’ll go through hell together and stick together. We’d have stories of hard times, fun times, good times, crappy times… We’ll have stories of all the times! He’d watch me become a woman, grow and come into my own. I’d watch him become his own man, love and want to kill him at the same time all through, but I’d never want to leave him. He’d protect me with his life, swear to die for me and mean it. We’d have our 5th year anniversary before we finally tie the knot. We’ll be happy together.
It didn’t happen that way. At all!
I was single for all of my teen age years (if you don’t add the dysfunctional liaison bit) and most of my twenties. The relationships I’ve had haven’t been the most fuflfilling. There was always one key ingridient missing… He likes me but I couldn’t see the future with him in it… I like him but he didn’t think I was ‘the one’… We like each other but… And everytime I cried my heart out with blood, I told myself Mr. Right was out there somewhere. Until I stopped being 20-something. Now I know he’s run off and married someone else. Now I have to wait for the realistic, pragmatic man in his 30’s that has his life mapped out and just wants to settle down. I can’t be caught wanting butterflies, giddy laughter and dreamy looks. I must be insane to want soft kisses and gentle brushing of my cropped hair. Why would he just hold my hand and watch me blush? When he has board meetings, client sites and probably 2 other chics waiting for the opportunity to show him how good a wife they can be? Probably better than me. Cos, I’d rather a washing machine than my hands in lather. Not like I grew up pampered… But I do love an opportunity to laze around.
So, here I am, angry and disappointed in my fantasies. They led me to this point where I’m not even sure what I feel about what I think everyone thinks should be what I should consider my prioroties where family is concerned. Worse of all, I can’t every grow up with him, ever! He’s all grown up now, and so am I. We have few tales to share. We’ll never take aimless meaningless walks non-stop for days… We’ve got work and other things. Plus Lagos isn’t that safe, is it? You see what I mean? I’ve been cheated out of this game. By myself, by my choices, and maybe circumstances. Bottom line, no longer living life in ‘paradise’, no fairytales…