We spent a short period together but somehow still spoke to great depths or so it seemed. I thought we had struck a chord; reached an understanding, familiarity of the rare breed, far beyond mere acquaintanceship and independent of time. I saw in her a difference; different, removed from the rest. An individual far more ambitious than the narrow minded females floating about, who seemed so intent on hooking a life-partner so much that little else mattered.
She spoke of her aspirations, passion and drive; where, other than there, she would rather have preferred to be and listening to her was refreshingly stirring, heart-warming even. She spoke as though she’d known me for decades; no inhibitions, no holds barred, no demands of reciprocation and it felt divine to listen without being made to feel guilt as though I was hoarding.
She said above all, more than anything else this world could offer, what she wanted the most was love - pure, true and unbridled. Finally, she said she was satisfied; not completely happy and fulfilled but sufficiently gratified enough not to be consumed by the race to beat the biological clock. My heart fluttered.
When she looked at me, her eyes seemed to beckon and in my heart I harboured hope, desire of a future together. I thought I had finally found a real woman. One patient enough to work and wait for what she wanted, yearning for the best yet making the most of her life in its absence. In that instant, I dared to dream; dared even to think that she loved me as much as I did her. For there were many who desired her attention, who would give arm and limb to be her man but she turned my way with rapt admiration. How wrong I was.
Looking back now, I cannot help but feel crestfallen. It dawns that she probably never really shared her true self, true feelings or story. Perhaps, I was just a means to an end, the proverbial “Guinea Pig”…just one in a long line of “eligibles”; drawn from the hat and eliminated when not deemed viable an option to meet that dreaded deadline only a woman at cusp of her prime knows too well. I will never know for sure but I am left with the feeling of being fed dirt in return for handing out chocolate-coated candy bars.
It is possible I come to this conclusion in ire, hence sound a tad unfair. Maybe like in the fairy-tales and happy-ending romance flicks, cupid did in fact manage to find her the true love she yearned for, a very worthy suitor - her very own 'Knight in shining armour' - and the feeling of love and respect between them is mutual. After all, I am only on the outside looking in, but from where I stand, it is so extremely hard to discard objectivity and go along with the heart's fancy inclinations. The photo of she and her man together didn’t look very good; I could not see the sun, her smile or love’s warmth, I only sensed convenience and it gnawed at heart every time I saw it…that guy there should be me!
