I remember the first time falling in love, he was in his 30s, I just turned 18. We had an interesting affair but disgusting and unacceptable for some people. A hidden, secretive affair which was hidden so well that until now, 4 years later, nobody knows that we were together. As much interesting as it might sound, we were scared, frustrated, over worried. We saw each other in public and would keep a distance from the other, throwing sarcasm in the air like a code that noone else but us could decipher. Glancing furtively, giving kiss quietly.. for an adventurous, spontaneous and curious soul like me, nothing could be more perfect than that.
The first time falling in love, I scrupulously texted him with my broken alter ego at 2 in the morning after a big jug of sangria . It was a rant, with an opening reason and a closing result, like a ceremony at church every Sunday. Of course i had no boyfriend afterwards. The “I love you” i said at that time was a breakout from all the pressure i put my heart under, i had no expectation towards anything. I slowly let him in, he burned my guard down, made the women out of me, and taught me how to love myself. I see the male version of me inside him, seeing my soul wandering around his head. It was complicated, hurtful, i walked out of the affair with an ugly hole in my heart and a distorted definition of love: “A torture love is a beautiful one.” I mistook sacrificing and taking for grant. It was not too soon to say I love you, It just wasn’t right.
The second time i thought i fell in love, he was a one night stand that turned in to a “so many nights together”. For the first time in my life, i knew how great it was to be in a “somewhat real” relationship. We stayed together, discovered things together, made plans together, and built up in my head a happy ending of the dating game. I remember myself being on the last flight of the day, seeing all the lights below sparking beautifully in the dark, being excited to be with a new man who warmed my heart. I remember waking up one morning by a gentle kiss and hot coffee in bed, for the first time in my life, I told someone that they were the best. I remember us standing in the front yard, smoking, kissing, trying to guess what the neighbors talked about and laughing at the weird song on the national radio in a language that we both didn’t know. I remember the movie marathon before my 4am flight, we both could not sleep, for the first time in my life, i saw a man cried. Little did i know, it was the last night we were together. I remember us breaking up on skype, I tried to explain the “I love you ” as a feeling that is more than “Like” and very hard to describe. I cried so hard that night, the night after, a month after, and six months after. The love was gone, even when I know that he told my friend about how he did love me but never had the gut to tell me, the memories torment me like an open wound. I learned it the hard way not to be rush on something I want to last. I mistook a rebound and genuine love. I know the the break up wasn’t too soon, as the love was just not right.
The third time falling in love, I faced my physical desire and intellectual conflict with a chill mind. I knew there was no future, I knew that things can only be beautiful if it’s left undone. It is extremely beautiful what we have, and I never want to describe the love with details or make a novel out of it. Out of all the love I have, for the first time, I feel inner peace within every little things we do together, even it’s the smallest one. The third time falling in love, I found myself whispering in his ears “I love you” with music in my ears turning to max. I was afraid of hearing myself. He said thank you. Things just ended. It was not too soon, it was not even right.
The fourth time falling in love, he’s smart, gentle, chivalrous, loving and caring; I’m vulnerable, broken, skeptical, hide myself under the stupid insecure armour. People reach their lover, wearing silk on the outside and word that melt the heart. I reach my lover with an unacceptable coldness, dress up as a porcupine, scary and distant.
The fourth time falling in love, I remember texting him “my feeling is more than just Like”. I would probably break the records for those who are boring and have no idea what romance is. I would address myself as a tranquil person, with a broken heart, I don’t expect myself dragging all the pieces along the way I go but someone can just spot me out of the corner I stand, and come up to clean them with me. I thought I could never be found again, I thought I could never be loved. Then he came, like a cleansing wave and a refreshing breeze that make me feel alive. Being around him, bare feet in the kitchen, naked in bed, I feel like going home after a long battle. The battle of love and dating the wrong person over again. I don’t see myself being scrupulous, hurt or vulnerable with my “I love you” anymore. I said it then, in a nature way, without hesitation, but a curiosity about my brave broken self, and a tranquil, quiet love. I say it now, every day, every time I want to, every moment I feel like. For the first time in my life, I tell someone that they’re my world. Saying “I love you” to my boyfriend was not too soon, or wrong. It was just right. Right place, right time, right person. Someone that makes a chapter of your life become a fairy tale with a happy ending everyday, inspires you, motivates you, loves you and cares for you as much as they can. Someone that you can go home to after a long day, hug them and burry your head to their hairy chest to say “I love you”. Someone that is special, unforgettable and be willing to join in the journey your choose in life. Someone that you can proudly hold their hands and show the world that they’re yours. I am in love, all over again, even there is insecurity as my ridiculous vulnerable self is still in pain, I attach my bare, naked heart in every “I love you” I say to him. People hope to give out love without being hurt, I accept having another scar. Even this perfect love will give me permanent scar, I accept it. It doesn’t matter anymore for me that the heart can be whole again or not. It’s more important that happiness was there, once in a life time. So when you look back, you can proudly say “I loved, and it was true. “.