I’ve talked about experiences many times. And ultimately, my takeaway is that experiences redefine expectations.
I’ve been working on not having expectations, and I’m getting much better at it. I am doing a good job at having no expectations for things out of my control. And that also means not taking people’s words too seriously. While my initial experiences told me that people mean what they say, I have soon learnt that people say a lot, but they don’t always follow what they say. It’s a horrible lesson to learn, but an important one nonetheless.
Of experiences, I’m truly lucky to have experienced the best kinds of love. All the love in the world, never the same love twice.
Hanging by my window, there hangs 2 Polaroid pictures of the 2 greatest loves of my life. They define what home and safety means to me. And the pictures make me smile whenever I struggle to find one. Maybe that’s why I love Polaroids and taking pictures. It’s always a snapshot of the good times.
Of course, you have the other forms of love. Those that are love but not quite “fully” love. The many summer loves, the vacation love, the respectful love, the admirable love, the family love. I’m truly blessed to have experienced them all, to the best versions of love. I’m lucky, oh so lucky.
And perhaps because I have been spoilt by love, I will never settle for anything less than what I know and have experienced. I’m grateful to be truly loved and appreciated for my being. And I know the men always value me for just being me. I’m so thankful.
So here I am now, still in my prime. I’ve had my fun, I’m still having it. But it makes it 100x tougher to find someone, for I’ve only had the best versions of love. And I don’t settle.
I truly don’t know if he exists. But if he does, I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life loving him — the love poets write about, the love songs are written about and the love where words has lost its meaning.
In any case, I know there’s always me to count on. Except for a dick, I give me the best love there is in the world.
Happy valentine’s day.
ps: ah shit. You know what sucks? I’m really good at remembering a snapshot of a moment. Like at 8am and sleepy V mumbled “where are you going? come back” and he opened his arms. Or when I was moving and P put his hands around my back and pressed me into his chest. Or when I’m in my little sunny corner and E looks at me smiling, and I look back at him with a smile. Then he gets off his seat and cuddle me in his arms.
Knowing it exists and that I have experienced it, yet acknowledging that you can’t have it again makes me both mad and sad. But more importantly, grateful that it was real. Some things are too great, you can’t have them too often. Or it becomes like drugs and I get addicted to it!