I actually wrote this on a piece of scrap because its the middle of the night and I can't log into Phan Shean's 'puter. Am in Newcastle 'celebrating' Christmas with the fella, roasted a small turkey even. Weekend before Christmas I was in town on the way home, it was 2am and the party revelers were outside, all drunk and merry, none of the walking in a straight line, it felt so eerie. It was like walking a dead city, shops closed with only the lights on, and walking zombies stumbling slightly on the uneven cobbled roads.
Anyway, the title does refer to the movie, which I watch alone last night, Shean leaving me 1/3 of the way in because in his words, can't really see a point to the movie and it's pretty much hit-and-miss. Its about various kinds of love and its many betrayals - there's the widowed man and his-very-much-in-love-with-girl-in-his-grade 6-year old stepson, a bored, roving husband, a bloke in love with the woman who married his best mate, a working class girl falling in love with the PM, a blossoming love between two people despite language barriers, an ugly fooker whose life mission is to look for quick and many many shags, and people falling in love despite the most awkward of circumstances.
We all know people in various stages of that. On the way in and out of love. Maybe you're in one of those yourself. Love remains the biggest, most elusive mystery the human race is plagued with. What is this thing really. All the self-help books in bookstores teaching us all to how to present ourselves, how to date, how to maintain relationships, how to get over breakups. People live and die for it. It's many a splendoured thing; it is the purest of pain. The millions of songs, movies and human expression dedicated to love, to recognise, celebrate and mourn it.
It seems ridiculous, really.
But I am a cynic, and in a short time, learnt to be cold about it. Nothing like have loved and lost to make a person wary. And nothing like knowing a person can like me but do nothing to endear himself to me and expects me to still be there, that selfish kind. So I come to a point where I am indifferent. Not like I don't get excited, or that I don't fall for someone but it takes a lot more. And I'll always hold back in case he walks away again. That way I don't get as hurt anymore. That way I can walk off another episode unscathed. So it's not a lack of enthusiasm. Its self-preservation. I need that. Don't get me wrong. There are many decent men. I cannot pretend to deny that. There will always be happy couples, there will always be boy-meet-girl and fall-for-each-other. Maybe not for me, not this time. Not for a while yet. Somewhere along the lines, I stopped thinking the problem is me. Somehow, I know its just fate and not something that is within my control. Got to let go. Who knows, I spent too much time on it already. Enough. There's other things in my life to take care of.
Also, there are life's needs and life's wants. Love is a want. The needs...? If I really really need to, they're pretty bloody easy to fulfill. But I still like bit of a challenge. Pick and choose. But I get used to not having anyone sticking around. Fine, fine. Normally I don't think twice about my choices. Tis a woman's prerogative, as they say. But...
Call it a narcissistic moment. Pivotal. Just something I want to note, almost.
I might regret this one.
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