The Element

Sunday, March 6, 2016 Comments Off

My parents have always been opposed to my term of love. They have proven to me, time and time again, that the ideas of love that I think about are either too impossible to function or too delusional. What they think of love, and consequently relationship, is just too different from my idea of love and what I seek from it. And for the first time in my life, I understand what they want and what they want me to have.

It all started with the usual Friday night out with my friends from work. We have this routine of going out, every two weeks or so, which we always look forward to. During the hours when we are out of the office, we would simply be friends, not coworkers; meaning, everything that we rant that are exclusively office-related won't be repeated to anybody else from work both when in and out of office. We created this safe space where every single word that we say would not be held against us should anyone at work ask us about those particular topic in the future.

On that particular Friday night, we went to this relatively new gastrobar near our office. It was neatly located between two huge trees, and not that hard to spot from the main street. I was skeptical of the place at first since I really had not heard any single one of my friend mention about it. But I was proven that the place was nice after all. The gastrobar was decorated tastefully, somewhat reminded me of a broken times in the 60s with art deco, and they serve you with these age old drinkwares that looked like they were summoned from a time long past; the whole place was a pretty homage to the glorious days when Andy Warhol was the host of every glorious event in the world.

The most important thing of this gastrobar, however, is its dim lighting and moderate space between each tables, they provided us quiet intimacy in which we could chat privately with each other, talking about various topics, from the mundane to the most important: the affair of the heart. It's bound to happen, really, when you put few females together, especially after a long week. Obviously, the topic that we always ended up talking is romance affair, or any other type of romantic endeavour, which sadly I haven't had anything worth to talk about. But, I have always loved listening about it; about how someone could ignite your passion, or about how you can truly be comfortable with someone else that they become a part of you, an extension of your soul inhabited in another body.

The conversation on that Friday night was interesting to me because it had given me a new perspective in seeing what my parents (and to some extent my friends) want me to have concerning love or romantic endeavour. I finally understood that because of what my coworker was talking about romance. She was currently having this fiery passion inside of her that is ready to burn longer than one trip around the Sun. I admire her for that. I admire a person's courage when they make decisions based on their passion and emotion, instead of making year-long decision making process the way I do. And now I get what my parents want me to have. They want exactly what my coworker want, a giant ball of fire that is ready to burst whenever I am near the person that I am in love with. They want me to feel like there is tsunami inside, ready to devour everything on its path. They want me to feel like there is tornadoes inside, throwing everything out of its way. They want me to feel like there is volcanoes inside, extremely hot and eruptive. They want passion.

But it's not what I want for myself. To tell you the truth, in every relationship that I pursue, be it romantic or platonic, I always seek for the intimacy; a certain closeness that I have with the other person. I want us to blend almost seamlessly with each other. I want us to have something that can be shared with each other, regardless of the type of relationship. And I want to feel safe with them, like all these guards that I have been purposefully built over the years can be torn down with a single touch, with a single word, and a single glance. I don't want that deconstruction to be deliberate either, I want it to be mutual. I want myself to give them the power of destructing my walls. True, I have built a rather large and complex labyrinth, but often the people who are able to push the button for deconstruction found them accidentally, and without so much of a meaning to burn my labyrinth. This is where I differ from my parents and from some of my similar minded friends. I want something that is borne out of familiarity and comfort.

And with that, I can honestly tell you: I pick the calmness and the depth of the ocean, over the burning Sun.

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