On Not Having Anything To Regret

The plan that I have right now is pretty simple: Keep working hard on building my career and chasing dreams. Nothing more, nothing less. It’s so easy to just focus on my goals and not care about anything or anyone. My personal brand is to become this career-obsessed, cold-hearted, talented, ambitious millennial. And everything will work out just fine.

Finding love isn’t really part of the game. I shouldn’t really be caring about having a romantic partner. Or the lack thereof. Because it doesn’t really make sense to have one to begin with. This is the perfect time for me improve and get better and show the world how great I am – and will be.

But jokes on me because I stupidly, immaturely had a major crush on someone. Admitting this alone makes me want to punch myself in the throat. And I’m beginning to hate myself just remembering it.

The story is… I have known this guy on the internet before. In fact, we used to be Facebook friends at one point. But I deleted some people in the past and apparently, I must have included him. The funny thing is, sometimes, it’s true that the world is such a small place after all. Because who would have thought that we would work in the same company one day? Learning this is the biggest lol of my 2017.

I tried to avoid him at first. And it was relatively easy, because, you know, I’m so good at building walls and icing people out. In fact, I’m one of the best when it comes to not caring.

It would be no sweat to ignore him, but the problem was that, most of the time that he would walk in front of me, he would peek in my direction. Naturally, I would give meaning to this. Like, omg, maybe he likes me. Maybe he remembers me. Maybe he thinks I’m really attractive in person. I tried to console myself that maybe this is how a normal human brain works. (But if it’s not, then by all means I’ll give you the opportunity to roast me.)

I’m going to admit that my heart makes me exponentially dumb sometimes.  I could have been logical and sided with my brain more. I could have told myself that just because someone stared at my direction didn’t mean that I was the one they were looking at. And even if I was the subject of their eyeballs, it still didn’t mean anything – romantically speaking.

But I shit you not, I spent an entire week falling in love with the fantasy that, what the fuck, he’s totally into me.

My assumptions backfired and my expectations let me down, particularly on the night of November 15th.  I promised I would have fun and enjoy the evening but it didn’t happen the way I planned, because the heart knows what it wants? Fuck feelings, really.

I went home feeling like a garbage. Memories of my previous mistakes in the past flashed back in my mind, reminding me that I never learned my lessons. That maybe I’m still the kind of person who falls in love with someone who isn’t going to love me back. That I still get hurt by someone who hasn’t even uttered a single word to me.

I hate that, after so many years of practicing the art of not giving a fuck about men, I still become a victim of unrequited love. And I know I’m better than this. I know I’m too old for this bullshit.

On Friday afternoon though, right after lunch, I thought I would grab the bull by the horn and settle down the issue once and for all, because it’s already stressing me out. Remember how I always write about not being afraid to say what you want? About life being too short and you will never know the answer until you do something to obtain it?

Well, I preach what I write. I sent him a polite message, telling him that I think I’ve met him at Tumblr before. I wasn’t really sure if I met him at Tumblr because all I remember was that we were friends at Facebook, but Tumblr was a better excuse.

Spoiler alert: he didn’t reply.

Was I heartbroken? My answer is, I was tired at that point. But I did a series of chuckle for the rest of the afternoon so I guess that’s a good thing?

But here’s what I’ve learned: I did the right thing. I had no intention of living the next few days, or weeks, or months wondering if there could be something for us. In a lot of ways, I got my answer through radio-silence, and my bullshit-o-meter was smart enough to pick that up. And now, I have nothing to regret.

I am still kind of disappointed. But I’m trying not to be crippled by this incident by allowing myself to feel whatever the fuck it is entitled to feel, then make a research about this scenario, and understand my emotions. I like to do things systematically lately and it’s a tiny proof that I’m slowly becoming a boring adult.

I would like to think that maybe I am not designed to have an amazing love story to share to the world – and I wouldn’t want to, anyway. Maybe I’m really meant to be the one who makes a great career because it aligns more with my personality. Maybe being successful in everything that I do is how my story was created in the first place. Maybe I was born to leave a great, big impact to the world – nothing more, nothing else.

And maybe I should embrace my purpose more, one day at a time. And stop letting myself be sidetracked by anyone.

Advertisements

I’m Late At The Party (And I Am The One To Blame) 

I’m probably — maybe — going to grow old alone. I know I’m being such a downer, and this is, without a doubt, a sad way to open a paragraph — but I truly have a good feeling I’ll never get to experience true love. 
I also know that this might come off as a shocker to a lot of people. And I understand why. I mean, I write about love and relationship a lot. Shouldn’t I be, among all of us, the best when it comes to dating? Shouldn’t I, at this point, have a wonderful partner that I can brag to anyone? Theoretically yes. 

I have a good amount of knowledge about what love is, about what we deserve, about the kind of person we should all end up with. I know the ins and outs. I am super familiar with relationship red-flags, with fuckboys, with temporary relationships. I promise you I can talk all day about love and relationship and I will never run out of something to say. 

But the irony — or shall we say the biggest joke — is that I am sitting here, wholeheartedly accepting that I am destined to keep loving myself until I draw my final breathe. I am sitting here, remembering how everyone that I deem to like is unavailable — legally, physically, emotionally. It seems as if someone screams, “The boat is sinking!” and people just grab whoever that is near them. And I am too slow to ever catch one. 

Every time I look all around me, I see couples. And it made me think how there’s a party somewhere that we all need to go and we’re required to go in pair. Everyone has found the right person for them. Everyone has settled down. Everyone is ready to head to the party. And, as obvious as it is, I am late and I am coming alone and I don’t even care. 

I am going to the party on my own and I am the one to blame. I have been picky. I write about not settling for less, for what I don’t deserve. I talk about wanting to be partnerless than be with someone I don’t like. And as always, I follow what I preach. 

I am single AF. And I am the one to blame. And again, I don’t really care. 

The scary thing about me is that I know exactly how to magically put up walls all around me, iced anyone that I don’t like, and not feel anything at all. I am good at shutting my emotions down just to prove a point, or get what I want. I know how to pretend I don’t remember certain memories. 

What’s even scarier is that lately, I’ve been obsessing over having a great career. At 23, I am fully determined to take my life seriously. 

No strings attached with anyone. No personal relationships involved. There’s only one word that I have in mind — and it’s not love — it’s success. 

I’ve had so much shit in the past few years and I guess I’m just done playing games with anyone. I hate wasting my time. I hate sharing my attention and energy to those who don’t give a crap about the person that I am becoming. I highly value my future and I am quick to turn around to anyone who’s going to slow me down. 

I love my job. I love my client. And I love my company. This is what I’ve been waiting for so long. This is what I’ve been dreaming to have. And I earned this moment. 

Everyone’s most likely having a good time at the party. Everyone’s going to stay late. But I won’t. Because it’s not the kind of party that I came here on earth for. I’s not the kind of party that can ultimately make me happy. And if people are going to blame me for being alone, I don’t really mind. As long as I will live this life unapologetically, fabulously, single AF.