So you're suddenly single. Or you've been single for a long time, maybe a few years or months, and at this time, you're probably wondering when you're going to find someone new. Someone that could elicit overly hyped up but undeniably true feelings only a special someone could. The pounding of the chest, the butterflies in the stomach, the anticipation of a brand new first kiss.
It's not that you're unhappy, there are definite perks in being as free as you can be, but it's also not like you're in heavenly bliss either. After the near suicidal physically-painful post-breakup era and the feeling of boundless freedom and excitement of meeting new acquaintances without the guilt of a jealous rage from your other half that comes afterwards, things have plateaued down into a consistent and stable blah.
In a world of millions of lonely people, common sense would dictate that they should all just pair up and be happy. But there's nothing common nor sensical about love. In my experience (and probably everybody else's), it's either you don't like the person/persons who likes you or it's the other way around. Literature, theater, the film industry and lyric music are full of stories like these, and it's not without reason. For a feature film or a paperback novel, unrequited love is a goldmine that sucks everyone in but in reality, these circumstances just plain suck.
I've had my share of bad I-wish-I-didn't-agree-to-this dates that just made me miss the connection I had with someone from the past and really good ones that made me want to believe in freaking fairy tales and an assortment of Nicholas Sparks novels. But then, of course with my rotten luck and as with any tragic story that brings tears to the sentimental and joy to the sadists, things did not go the way I wished them to.
See, I probably am one of the few who jumped off the ship without having something to fall back on. Most people would make sure that they have another vessel to hop on to before they let go of a consistently reliable relationship. But that situation usually leads to deceit and overlapping of commitments and I'm really not the kind of woman who would finalize a board and pass to another without terminating an existing contract.
Okay, analogy overload. Forgive the hyperactive imagination.
It's like being stranded on a ship in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. The motors are wrecked and you know you're going nowhere. The rooms are comfortable and it brings solace from the harsh waves of uncertainty but you know you'll be staying there for a looong time in the middle of vast nothingness if you don't leave now. What do you do?
foolishly wisely jumped off the ship with only a lifeboat, a paddle and my emergency kit of loyal friends and headed to a nearby island and learned how to make fire, eat alone and be friends with a volleyball named Wilson. Every once in a while a ship would pass through, manly honking their horns and blowing off steam in a macho way asking me to board their presented luxury liner but I refuse because it's either I see a band of pirates or their route is to somewhere I don't want to go to.
I'm not that paranoid, really. I almost boarded one, but then the ship sank before it even got the chance to sail so I just swam back to shore, wet and frustrated (wait, that didn't sound right), chopped a few trees just for kicks and went back to having meaningful and thought-provoking conversations with Wilson.
So, here we are. At the blah stage. In this island. Time has been good but circumstances have possessed me to build a great wall manned by an epic army of pellet-blasting plants and highly-armed midgets with a perpetual expression of I'm-surrounded-with-idiots on their faces to guard me and Wilson from pirates and passerby alike. Sometimes I spot a mighty ship float uncertainly near my area probably contemplating whether to risk the journey but then passes by just as quickly, intimidated by my midgets. Go figure.
Right now, the walls are higher and the guards are fiercer than ever. Picture all the armies of the different monarchies of The Seven Kingdoms, House Stark and Lannister together, with Khaleesi's full-grown fire-breathing dragons leading the pack and Tyrion Lannister (head midget) blasting out sarcastic quips (he wrote this post by the way) from a pedestal.
Not all hope is lost though. It may sound like I retreated to this impenetrable fortress and cursed all men into eternity of sexless pursuits and Gonorrhea but that's not the case. I still let visitors in, but it's not without my invisible dragons breathing on their back and sardonic imps carefully observing from their posts.
I guess this is how it is to finally grow out of a fairy tale bubble.