Almost everyone (who cares about me) had already wondered and asked why I don’t have a boyfriend yet. Don’t worry, I wonder why, too. And I don’t just wonder why I don’t have a boyfriend today; I also wonder why I never had one. And if that isn’t enough, I also asked myself, “Is there something wrong with me?”
I know, okay? I am still young. Not so, but young. And if my parents are reading this right now, I am sure that they are thinking how ridiculous that first paragraph is. But it’s true. It would be a total lie if I’ll say that I haven’t thought about having a boyfriend—or not having, in my case— once in my entire life.
To anyone who reads this: Let’s temporarily forget all the rules our elders had always taught us (and by that I meant the rules on who, when, where, why and how to date and love). I shouldn’t consider those right now because I’m pretty sure that if I do, I will end up writing nothing.
And since I feel like I’m telling the world about something I have managed to keep to myself all these years, I guess I must first say that I’m so much glad that my mind finally instructed and urged me to write about this.
I guess I will never get to answer why I never had a boyfriend. Believe me, I have no way of knowing. But let me try to tell you what I think about that (before I get ashamed of what I’m about to say—write—and delete all of this).
My parents are too cool to say that I am allowed to have a boyfriend, just under one condition: I should let them know. They just wanted to meet my non-existent suitors face-to-face. So parents’ consent isn’t much of a problem here. Apparently, my suitors are.
It will be easier to say that I am not ready yet, or that I do not to want find myself committed in a romantic relationship just yet. But that’s not true. To be honest, I don’t believe that anyone will be prepared for that. I don’t really think I am ready. But ready or not, I don’t care. I want to be with a man. Or at the very least, find a man.
I won’t say that I have not ever flirted around boys, but I will admit that I suck at that. I do it in a very terrible manner that I, myself, can say that it doesn’t qualify to be called as flirting. My flirt cells always fail me by malfunctioning all the F-ing time. And I’m left hooked up with writing and reading. Really, it was fun to be with them. But sometimes, I get bored of daydreaming about my crushes and just get tired of fantasizing the fictional characters that every good girl adores.
Sometimes, I can’t help thinking about having a great love story of my own; but most of the time, I am thinking if it’s possible for me to even have a love story.
I think the problem lies in the impression others have of me, or rather, the impression I unconsciously give away. I seem to not give a damn about having this kind of relationship, and that I am a very smart girl who knows nothing except studying and making friends.
I am (or I appear to be) intimidating, and I am not saying this because I have a strong sense of self-conceitedness; I am saying this because that, I believe, is one of the reasons why boys stop pursuing on girls. Boys brave enough to handle girls who (seem to) have high standards are just too endangered in my generation, and most of them just settle for someone they can effortlessly have head-over-heels on them.
If I will be asked right now if I ever felt alone, I won’t hesitate to say ‘Yes.’ You may have second thoughts in believing me, but of course I had those miserable moments when I have to eat alone in a fast food chain, or stare at my phone screen all day wishing for someone except my network operator to text, or to go to the mall by myself because no one else is available. Not that I don’t have friends. It’s just that sometimes, I just watch everyone get on with their love lives and can’t get any sadder for myself.
When I pass by couples at school or park or anywhere, I do not feel lonely, jealous or bitter. But every time I get to bump on a not-so-pretty girl who has a definitely gorgeous boyfriend, I can’t help to ask myself “Am I not pretty?” and then remember that I am perfect and instead ask, “Why don’t I have one when I’m prettier?” and feel hopelessness radiating through my veins.
And yes, I have a lot of single friends, a bunch of them, actually. But I can’t just expect that much to them all the time because they also have their own priorities and lives. I mean, of course, I don’t have any idea on what life must be like to have a boyfriend, but based on the books I’ve read and movies I’ve watched and my friends’ love stories I obsessively keep track of, it seems pretty amazing, despite the heartbreaks.
Then again, I know very well that there’s no need to rush on things. And I am certainly happy with what’s going on in my life right now. If there is a love story waiting for me somewhere out God knows where, it will just come knocking on my door. And if there’s really none and I am bound to just be a happy and perfect and rich bachelorette forever, well, it’s sad but I think I can get through it.
And just to assure you, my dear friends, I will not—and never—poison (literally and figuratively) myself, even if it’s the only choice I have left.