Girl and City

When I fell in love, I wrote that it felt like I was suddenly seeing the world in colour. Like I had been ignorant all my life of the brilliant yellow sun and the dazzling blue sky. This is it, I thought. This is what I’ve been missing all my life.

I thought I’d never be able to live in black-and-white again. But unknowingly, the colour in my world began to fade, and before I knew it, I was once again living in a black-and-white world.

I want colour again. I want to love again.

After work today, I met up with BBB downtown. After wandering around the mall, we ended up having dinner with a few high school friends I hadn’t seen since graduation.

And you know what I realized?
I’ve changed.
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I miss the simpler days of affection, before pre-marital sex and cheating and Facebook statuses. When a boy who loved you would:

• Look for you at your favourite hiding spot when he couldn’t find you
• Always buy two of whatever he was getting so he could share with you: two ice cream cones, two cups of lemonade, two popsicles – although exceptions can be made (i.e. ONE large sundae)
• Share an umbrella with you in the rain
• Hold your gaze a second too long
• Tingle at the slightest touch of your skin
• Give you his mitts if you forgot yours
• Drape his blazer around you if you were cold
• Defend you in front of his friends
• Think about you before he fell asleep
• Think about you the moment he wakes up
• Make a big deal about meeting your parents
• Write you love letters with excellent penmanship, always more passionate on paper than in person

Maybe that’s why I love Jane Austen and Charlotte Bronte – because the chick lit they write belong to an era when romance was more than roses on Valentine’s Day, when love was a commitment from a gentleman to a lady.
Do such gentlemen even exist anymore?

I don’t feel like having drama plastered all over my blog, especially for first-time readers, but who am I kidding? My blog has always been about the drama.
Anyway, all the feedback for the previous post has inspired me to write the following:
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I just finished reading The Opposite of Love by Julie Buxbaum and I am completely, 100% creeped out.
Nevermind that Emily decided to break up with Andrew under the same circumstances I decided to break up with MFL.
Nevermind that she couldn’t explain to anyone, not even herself, why she decided to end her perfectly happy relationship.
Nevermind that Andrew is the name of MFL (which is why I refer to him as A in my earliest entries).
Nevermind that they dated for two years, just as we had.
Nevermind, even, that the first time Andrew (from the book) ever said “I love you” was while they were watching an action movie in a movie theatre – exactly the same circumstances under which Andrew (from my life) first uttered those same three words.
Nevermind that Emily could not say the words back.

Are you a little bit creeped out yet? Because I am.

After reading the jacket of the book, the similarities were what led me to take out the book from the library.
“When successful 29-year-old Manhattan attorney Emily Haxby ends her happy relationship just as her boyfriend is on the verge of proposing, she can’t explain to even her closest friends why she did it.” – I have been asked a million times why I broke up with MFL and I have never been able to give a real answer.

But I was not ready to read about my own love story – my big mistake – which is why I returned the book without ever getting past the first two pages. But a few weeks later, I took it out again. This time, it took me until the end of my loan period to finally read the book.

Once I started reading, I couldn’t stop. (more…)