Fairytales in Reality

Starry summer nights often take me back to childhood memories of lying on the rooftop waiting for a comet, dreaming of a fairy tale to come true. The plot would be typical - prince charming meets his object of interest at a lavish party held at his palace. She runs off at midnight, leaving behind a (desirably designer) shoe, prompting an all-kingdom house-by-house search in which girls of all feet size try to (deceptively) fit into a shoe that is obviously not theirs. Albeit stretches, the shoe should still magically fit her eventually and they live happily ever after.

In Hollywood movies, these meet-cues continue to be fairytale-like, despite their modern day settings. The main characters meet in a romantic snowy night before Christmas when they stumble on each other and end up having passionate sex. The next day they go on a perfect date in which they talk nonstop about the beautiful things they have in their lives. They are "the couple"in the restaurant - beautiful, well-dressed, and clearly surrounded by nothing but love.

In reality, we met late night through an Iphone app called Grindr and went on our first date at a 24-hour McDonald's for the jasmine green tea to wipe away the Singaporean humidity. On that cloudy night, the cold drink also helped find some peace of mind after a whole day in the hospital witnessing one's best friend going through pains after pains at the last stage of cancer. Sitting outside on the sidewalk, we talked about how our lives were not perfect, tiring, and could be lonely away from home. And at the end, we walked back together in our worn-out flipflops, close and natural as if we had been together for a long time.

We didn't know how it would turn out, but suddenly, life - in that moment of imperfection - felt just like a fairy tale or a Hollywood movie.

.

.

* And just like a fairy tale that has to end at some point, we found a good point to say "the end" - and stayed good friends until now.

Photo credit: Catch a falling star - by David Delamare

The vicious cycle of pain

I was sitting with my legs close to my chest in a beautiful garden on a rare cool midsummer afternoon when my stomach went inflame again. I knew the feeling – that of desiring something too much and learning to accept that it was not going to happen – and I also knew the cause of it.

It was the beautiful creature sitting a few inches away from me, petting a small dog in a manner that seemed completely ignorant of the conversation around him.

I had questioned myself from the start of our “non-relationship.” He had ADD; I had OCD. He was European and noncommittal; I was Asian and dreaming of a relationship. I had told myself this would not work, that there was no place for me in his little world, and that this would be the last time I even think of him. And yet, every time he smiled, texted, or talked to me, I snapped that tiny ray of hope and fell right back to the place I was before – vulnerable, painful but somehow satisfied like an addict between joints.

He told me about his previous relationship – crazy, intense, toxic. His friend told me about how his ex-boyfriend insulted, abused, and tortured him – and how he threw himself to that guy like a moth to the flame. All I thought was how much I wanted a little craziness, a little toxicity, or a little intensity – with him.

Thinking about this twisted chase of cruelty, I couldn’t help wondering why we were so addicted to pain. Was life so boring that we needed pain for excitement? Was life so miserable that we needed pain to escape? Or were we just selfish masochists who blindly give in to whatever our hearts told us to, in hope of finding “true love”? And if so, how much pain would we be willing to tolerate before we finally quit?

Quitting, however, would require closure – or putting a meaningful ending to “something” we had. But in the end, there was just no ending – just like there was nothing to begin with.

Photo Credit: La douleur exquise - from vi.sualize.us/kallini2002/la%20douleur%20exquise/