two years clean
Forgive me, but this will be long. I haven’t blogged in a while, and I feel compelled to write or else I wouldn’t be able to sleep.
Two years ago, I kicked this bad habit of mine. And like any horrible vice, it lead me to a downward spiral of self-destruction, a nasty temperament, and a questionable state of sanity. Unlike people who block out their bad experiences, I try my best to remember to avoid making the same mistakes. Never again.
It’s remarkable how time has flown by. There was a time I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to pick myself up again. I felt lost. I hardly recognized myself anymore. But what I feared most was not feeling anything at all. That I would simply exist. I welcomed even pain, because that meant I was still willing to struggle and I still hoped things will get better.
But good winds blew my way and spring briefly broke through my lonesome winter. I pined for somebody, temporarily. Nothing came out of it, but I was enthralled with the realization I can find beauty in another person again. That my heart beats for more than one purpose.
I fancied more and more people - I pick total strangers lest I lose control and make a total ass of myself. Like that hot, long haired, broad shouldered (although married) Air Canada flight attendant who serviced my area during my Japan-Toronto flight. He spoke wonderful Japanese. I smiled during the entire 13 hours it took to get back to Toronto.
Or that chinese man immaculately dressed in a suit in Hongkong that made me and Maan turn our heads 180 degrees to relish the last few glimpses of his hurrying shadow. He wasn’t particularly tall nor do I remember what his best features were, but at that moment, I couldn’t resist. I had to look back as he forever walked out of my life.
Fancying somebody is like a fresh breath of air. But the best part is not the momentary tingles, but having enough inspiration to draw a plethora of what-ifs. Nevermind if it might not happen, but knowing you have endless possibilities of things that could happen between you and a stranger you’ve been eyeing is what smutty novels and daydreams are all about. Let’s face it, everyone, and I mean everyone has had a romantic fantasy, whether it was spawned by a nice fellow who held the door for you or a bloke you caught looks with for a moment across a bar.
When the daydream has ended, all that’s left is a heart-warming glow reminiscent of high school crushes, previous first dates, old flames, the most impecable of chocolates, or long runs that made your body sing. And sometimes that’s enough to tide us over until the next stranger that walks into your life. Then you can hope that maybe, this time, he/she will stay, maybe just a bit longer than the last one.
The last of all what-ifs is what if we cross paths again? Because of that uncertainty, or rather the possibility (depending on the assumed situation or scenario), we dream again from time to time. You try to stand taller, dress nicer, given the possibility that that hot Air Canada flight attendant has gotten a divorce and remembered you (out of all the other passengers of course, lucky you), and might be interested in coffee. Although you sense the ridiculousness of that ever happening, I always say it can happen. And that’s not just the optimist in me talking. Who am I to say no to a healthy buzz?
The fact is, it doesn’t have to happen. Even a fantasy, if it ever come to fruition, may not go the way you’d want it to be. Nothing is more painful than being hit with the harsh truth that your fantasy is too delusional. Rejection is a tough pill to swallow.
So no matter how much I yearn for any of my strangers, I won’t do anything. I’m happy being safe than sorry. And I have enough restraining orders against me. That last part was a lie, of course. The point is, no matter how pathetic it may seem, I smile because of my shallow affections for total strangers. And that’s good enough for now.