Mechanics of Love

"What's wrong with me?" you texted, after finding out that your prospect is dating another girl.

"E ako ang lagi 'nung kinakausap!" you protested.

I was caught up with work today so I wasn't able to answer.

But it did get me to thinking about myself as well.

Not that I want a new relationship now, although the thought is becoming more tempting, but yeah, let's answer that question.

Supposing I can (and want) accommodate a new person right now, how will I do it?

The discussion below answers your question indirectly.

First, I think I should know who I want. Physically and emotionally.

This, is the easy part, as it entails dipping into our well of fantasies.

Mine for example: moreno, nice built, not muscular but slender. But not too thin. I like nice eyes. Sometimes, it is my only requirement. It is my paramount requirement. I used to like Spanish-y eyes, you know the large ones with full eyelashes. But it shifted to chinitos. Like Paul's. Egyptian eyes, I described them once. Lips? Uh, I like slightly full lips. Pinkish lips, like babies'. I like chiseled noses.

Emotionally. I want them mature. And intelligent. Someone who can handle my almost daily ramblings. My pseudo-philosophizing (if there's such a word). Someone who I can think up with solutions to poverty, or to injustice. Hehehehe. Someone who plans his life. Someone who has direction.

Finding someone physically interesting is the easier part. For me there's B*, G*, R*, and a lot of other guys.

You, there's toooooot.

But after finding a target. What do we do next?

Me? I've never gone as far as ogle. I did it once, with Paul. It worked but he has to be blamed too for initiating, inviting. I was just a willing victim.

With you, you've never gone as far as fantazising. Meaning, you tell me stories, you wish you could have done this or that. Or belaboring on your next possible move which you never do, anyway.

So on this aspect, I think, that's where there's something wrong with us.

We have a target but we don't close in on them.

"Ang landi ko," you told me once. But I have no moral ascendency to argue otherwise. I'm your friend, so I indulge you.

Flirtations, in small doses, wouldn't hurt. But in large doses, they could be wonderful.

We're scared and that's kind of limiting.

What else is wrong with us?

We think too much, I think. Although I know you'd protest and say, I do that more often. But submit just a little and understand.

When we think ahead, that's somewhat self-destructive.

Look at our thought process: "Will he like me? Wait, does he like me because he's texting these crazy little things."

Or "maybe he doesn't like me because he's not reciprocating. He doesn't look at my direction. Mukhang suplado."

But truth is, we're just second guessing. Maybe the reason he couldn't look at my direction was because he was shy. I could appear suplado to a prospect. It's a shield sometimes that I wear. I camouflage my being pathetic.

What else is wrong?

Maybe our concept of love is.

Is it a goal that you desire and strategically get? Or is it a function of fate? Of serendipity. Paul once called our meeting, serendipitious.

I used to think that if you want love you have to get it. You devise a plan. And then you execute it.

But my perspective is shifting. Love is a product of fate. It comes when you are ready.

Didn't they say, love is like a butterfly. You don't chase it. To catch it, all you have to do is to open your palm and it will land.

I believe that but at the same time, somehow, I've lost interest in love and falling in love. I'm trying to think of it as a non-priority. I will meet it again accidentally, some time, some where.

And I will recognize it. Because that love will be strong enough to shatter my walls. And make me believe in the ultimate make-believe of our lives: that someone is meant for somebody.