Happiness is an art. I have been looking for happiness for the last 14 months. The more I look, the less I find. I have chosen a wrong path and since then living happily has become utopic.
I have been in couple for 14 months and as far as I can remember I was happier alone. It is a sad thing to say and probably I can hear people around me protesting. I believe I am happier alone. Either it is a true fact and I am just made to be alone or either I have chosen a wrong partner and my life in couple is not what I have expected.
Either way I am far from reaching happiness or the nirvana. I don’t know if I don’t want to be in couple or if I have been in a wrong relationship which led me to think that I am a person who could totally be alone, and die alone (which is even more than a truth).
The first wrong decision was to believe in the past. I was with my first boyfriend for 8 years when I was 16. I left him and we have lost contact for 20 years almost. Part of this was because he was angry at me for leaving him. Then for some reason we got back together after all these years. I have always believed that my past with him and my love for him were the most beautiful thing I had and leaving him was a biggest mistake of my life. When the opportunity showed up and pushed us back together I did not hesitate a second. It was 14 months ago. I have made space for this relationship and put all my soul into it.
The past was far past and the present is pain. The pain is so huge that I have lost all my faith, all my energy on the way to find happiness. I used to be joyful and I LOVE LIFE. I am now reduced to someone most of the time sad and weak. I hang on to the past to understand the difficulties of the present. I have nothing to hang on to except the past. The past of a story when I was 16. Destiny sucks and one thing I have learned from this story is that people do not change. Twenty years after the separation I have found the same person. The reasons that made me leave him twenty years ago could be the same for today. Nothing has changed except we are older and we are even more difficult and less tolerant.
I have been thinking for months about how one decision could jeopardize a whole life. I could walk away for the second time but for some reason I could not. Instead I stay and get sick and am sad. Someone once told me to forget the past, rectify the present so that my future can be better. I think I can’t just accept the second failure with the same person. There were too many mistakes in this decision. The thought of this person was my soulmate. The thought that this love story when we was teen-age was the best story. Now I can only blame myself for believing in the past. I have put aside the present at that moment to honor the past.
My sentimental life seems to go from one mistake to another. If happiness is the result of good decisions in your love life, then I would have to surrender, I would never be happy. Ever again.
When I was back at the gym last week and waiting for this dear friend, I realized that I had no choice to avoid pain. Could I make this past with “him” present again and put the present of the other past behind ? When I came home last week after seeing my dear friend at the gym I got back to my blog. 14 months were put on hold to live the other past. Worse thing in all of this is that I don’t even know what the word “soulmate” means. The one I believe was my soulmate only makes me suffer and the one who was unable to give me more than a conceptual love understands me more than anyone else.
He told me once the best cure for love is absence. In absence, everything fades away. I believe he is right. Completely right.
I have been in couple for one year and three months. Ups and downs. With faith. Losing faith. Most of the times in sadness more than in joy. I have been struggling. My couple was a sad challenge. But explaining why needs more than one piece of this blog.
During the whole year, my love for him seemed to fade away. Indeed. Or at least I thought so. I have been trying so hard in my couple that all sentiments or feelings I could have for him and which I could call “love” seemed very confused to me. All it counted for me was my couple and my partner. I maintained contacts with “him” but I rarely initiated them. He wrote to me almost everyday. But he knows that I am not free anymore.
I remember I announced to him my intention not to be single or not to wait for him during his times abroad. By e-mail. The last time we saw each other before my decision to be in couple (or to have a boyfriend) I did not tell him the truth. We just spent an evening like any other ones, having dinner together and talked and talked and talked with all the intensity possible that we could not notice anything else than our own energy. I could not find the courage to tell him that. In the night I wrote him a letter, telling him that I would stop the blog and thank him for the inspiration, that finally I had found someone to spend my life with and he could surely understand me as he could not offer me more. I insisted we stayed friends. He was supposed to stay in the country for six weeks before heading back to Asia. The day after my e-mail his mom told me he booked a flight for the next day and shortened the 6 weeks to one week time. I received his answer to my mail from Phuket, he said he understood me and we will always be friend and if I ever doubted about that, he would be very angry.
Since then, he always wrote to me first. Day by day.
I have put all of my energy and efforts and affection, everything I had into my new relationship. My love has faded away ? Or I just hid it somewhere or on hold ? I truly don’t know how to answer this question. My commitment to my couple was real and true and sincere.
One year and three months after I started the blog again. Asking myself where I stand with this love. He is back from his trip. He has not changed. He told me he had never written to anyone else that much and he was still very solitary. He told me he has always felt comfortable when being with me and what he loved most was our evenings together in the past. We never mentioned my couple again. Every night he sent me a song. Sometimes I thanked him. Sometimes not. It has nothing to do with my couple. Or yes, maybe it has everything to do with my couple. Am I happy ? I don’t know. Has my love for him died ? I don’t know. Truly I don’t know.
The alarm of the clock on the wall was set to end each training session after five minutes. 9pm sharp he finished the training and came toward me. I was sitting at the reception area. He touched me from behind the neck and asked if I would like something to drink. He said that the coffee here was good and strong. I said: No thanks. Wait for me I will go shower, he added.
Before he left for the shower he introduced me to the owner of the gym and his partner, then some of his sparring partners. When he came back he asked me if I wanted to visit the gym. I said yes. He told me that he liked the color of the wall, a kind of old pink color. He said he came here every evening, mostly because he is the principal coach but also because this place is his second home.
We left the gym and waited for the bus to come. The night was bright as it was full moon. It was not cold at all for a month of October. We went downtown for a drink. He did not talk a lot this time. Normally when we met each other he seemed happier. He told me not to worry as he was not in good shape. I told him that it was okay, we don’t need to talk a lot. For some reason I did not feel the need to talk a lot either. We had each of us a green tea. We looked at each other in silence. But there was no embarrassment in the silence. For the first time since we have known I asked first if we could leave. The idea of seeing him with a sad face made me even sadder than him. It was 11.30 pm. The last bus would be only in one hour. Usually we stayed until there was no more buses passing by. He said ok and held my hands for less than thirty seconds. We walked slowly to a square where all the buses stop. My bus arrived first. I kissed him very quickly on the cheek and entered the bus. He waved at me and sent me a kiss. I smiled at him and waved back.
Later in the night he wrote to me a private message on Facebook: “I am sorry. Bad mood lately. Always a pleasure to see you…”
I answered him early in the morning: “Don’t be sorry. It was nice seeing you though I never like to see you down…”
Then I opened my blog and wrote again after one year and four months of absence. About him. My inspiration.
Later on during the day I wrote him a long letter. I did not say in the letter how much I still love him. Just how much I care.
Later on that night he sent me a good-night song just like he did every night since one year and four months.
The bus 31 took me to his gym. I have never taken the bus 31 to go to this side of the city. Eleven stops from the station. He was waiting for me at 9pm. I arrived in front of the gym at 8.10pm. There was nothing around this area except one small Migrolino – the equivalent of a 7 Eleven in the US. There were only buildings for offices with no light inside. And above the main street where his gym is located you can see a bridge illuminated in the night. I have never been to this part of the city. I was way too early so I went to buy a small coffee at the Migrolino shop. I bought a take-away Starbucks coffee whose taste was disgusting. I crossed the street and found myself in front of the gym. No one in front. No one inside of the hall. I saw the name of the gym on the first door on the left. 8.20 pm. I entered the gym and said to a man sitting at the reception desk: I am a friend of S. He answered: Oh yes please come in, he is just there.
I took off my shoes and entered the room, sitting on a sofa, facing the training area. Here he was. On the floor with a sparring partner. He waved at me and smiled and got back to a jiujit-su position. I have not seen him for three months. And most importantly, I have not written about him for more than a year. Suddenly I felt a big wave of confused feelings all over me. I was happy to see him again. After all, he is my dear friend. I was scared to feel something more than a friendship again. And what I was afraid to face was very real at the moment I saw him on the mat. I was not indifferent. Something did happen inside of me. But I tried to avoid to put a name on it.
Here he was. The man with the eyes which carry the whole humanity like I have always thought. I could see those eyes from far. I opened a book on the table and browsed it slowly. I tried to avoid to look at him train. I have never seen him train. For all those years I had no occasion to come and see him train at the gym although he had asked me more than once.
Three months ago we had dinner at my place. With his parents. When the parents left, he told them he would stay and help me clean the kitchen. We washed the dishes together. When we finished he grabbed me and kissed me. The kiss lasted forever. I kissed him back. My kiss lasted more than forever. We were friends. We had stopping being lovers for a while already. Then the kiss in the kitchen. A kiss which is not sexual. He did not stay. Though he could. I could invite him to stay though. The kiss was the one of regrets, of affection or love, the kind of love which carries the universe, which gives you the world. His kiss was that kind of kiss. And that kind of friendship.
I was still sitting on the sofa, watching him train, remembering his kiss in my kitchen. 8.46 pm. In less than ten minutes he would finish the training and would come towards me and his hand would touch my neck as a sign of greeting me.
And this is the way our friendship goes now after having been everything together. I would say hi to him and catch furtively one of his fingers.
I thought I had nothing more to say about love. Then I was wrong.
I saw him tonight. The same. The only one about whom I wrote and the reason why I started this blog two years ago.
I saw him tonight. We are friends now. But I have been missing him all these days, months. I have been missing him so badly that tonight I decided to write about him again. After one year and three months. I have not been talking about him for one year and three months. I have been thinking of him. And missing him for one year and three months.