A Valentine's Post.

When I was 12, my aunt gave me a diary for Christmas. Foolishly, I brought it to school one day as I was afraid my mom would read it. My classmate M, a chubby and mischievous boy ransacked my bag and found it. The contents were silly things I wrote about my adolescent wishes and dreams but there were also a page where it was about a huge crush I had on another classmate, D. I was teased relentlessly for the next few months until everybody found something new to talk about.

Two years down the road in high school, history repeated itself and a rumour started that I was in love with my classmate, J. This time the teasing went on for three years. Come to think of it, for most of my years in high school I was associated with just one boy! I seldom spoke to J eventhough we were classmates. He had a quiet demeanour but hung out with a noisy bunch. And it was later on, when I found out that J's best friend, R was the culprit that started the rumour. I confronted him about it and he just laughed it off. From then onwards I detested R because he was the cause of all the teasing I had to endure. I didn't even fancy J in the first place! We started to fight and irritate each other at every opportunity possible. It was my sole mission in life at that time to make his a living hell. Throughout all this, J and I kept away from each other. It was like we had an invisible forcefield. And if one should be at a noticeable distance from the other an alarm would go off and the teasing would begin. However, when I was 15, I realised I liked J after we shared a slow dance thanks to R's scheming at a birthday party. It's funny, we hated each other's guts and yet he still invited me for his celebration.

For the next one year or so, I tried to get J's attention amidst all the teasing (that started to affect me less) and finally striked up enough courage to tell him my feelings but it was not reciprocated. He told me instead that I will end up dating our friend, A. I was confused and heartbroken (not only because of the rejection but also because I knew who had his heart). He was right. Fate brought A and I closer and as corny as it sounds, he became my first boyfriend at 17. I still remember J telling me after school one day, "Didn't I tell you so?" with a smile one day, when the teasing had stopped. I asked him how but he continued giving me that I know it all smile.

Over the next few years, A broke my heart, a few interesting ones came and walked on by, and along came M, who was a primary classmate. I had not seen him for seven years when our paths crossed. We met frequently after (sometimes everyday of the week), formed a close friendship and I fell for my best friend. Again, I made the first move (good thing this did not become a recurring pattern) and gave him a week for an answer but there was consistency and I experienced my second disappointment. I treasured our friendship and wanted things to return to normalcy. I recovered quickly, he was matured enough, and we remain as best friends. However, two months before I was to fly off to Australia to further my studies, he called me one night and told me, "I had a dream. We were holding hands..." and we gave it a shot. After three years as a couple, I longed for more and said goodbye.

That's the love story of my teens. As my 20s approached, Life and Love took a turn and got complicated. There were real tears, there were betrayals and lies (more often on my part of which I'm not proud of but we live and we learn), there were sticky situations I got myself into (of which I should have known better but then again...) and ultimately there were things I could not grasp but stubbornly continued chasing (I thought I could change the world...). Nonetheless, I can't deny the presence of moments where I felt like a teenage girl again, where I felt like I could touch the moonlight. Where I felt like I had wings and could flutter, like Lucy in the sky with diamonds.

To quote RA...

"I understood even way back then how love, young love more so, can be irrational and crazy and impulsive and inexplicable. It may be frivolous, but yes, the heart can expand to swallow up your whole being. As you grow older, you learn to steel yourself against it. You reason, you argue, you resist. Somewhere, you keep an escape clause handy. For some reason, as you grow older, it becomes scarier to give up control that way; the way that requires a kind of reckless abandon that only youth would allow. But….. that’s not true. Because you know, at any time, if only you’d allow it even just for a little bit, you’ll be 15 all over again. Till then, you will always be scratching at the surface..."

The only thing I want this Valentine's Day is to enjoy reckless abandonment with that someone special. Of course, it would be nice to be given that pair of shoes, that bag or that bling bling but those I can do without, for the time being :)

Let's simplify Love. Let's bring it back to the basics.

Let's be 15 once more. Let's just have fun.

Shall we?