One thing I am thankful for every month of hearts is my effortless appreciation and somehow innate excitement for Valentine’s. A number of people I know dread it, some couch it as single awareness day, and yet some look forward to it because well, they have “other halves” to celebrate it with. But I’ve never felt that unsettling feeling of bitterness or resentment and I don’t know why but am very much thankful anyway that I’m spared from that fuss. I don’t even have to choose it; it comes naturally like the cheerful feel of Christmas. And I don’t mean to brag. The past years, I’ve celebrated the day of hearts with friends mostly, dining out and laughing our hearts out – sometimes sharing secrets and dreams of our “perfect” love stories. The season gave us a legitimate excuse to stir up the hopeless romantic in us. The past Februaries, I surprisingly always get random roses – mostly from frat men who probably made it a tradition to give out roses to random girls in the campus during the 14th. Well for some weird twist of providence, I’m always one of those random and I don’t mind really – even when there’s nothing really romantic in it. I find them trivial but cute acts of spontaneity. I’ve never resented the season. Back at home, my dad would always exert an effort to celebrate with his three girls. He would take mom out on a date, bring her chocolates or a bouquet of flowers. I would never forget the time when he gave my mother a bunch of charming peach-colored roses and a heart-shaped “box” of Mon Cheri which my brother, sister and I devoured in no time. It was so refreshing, like he never tired of wooing mom. I also remember one V-day when he gave my sister a necklace and…erm, yours truly a pair of earrings, I think (sorry Pa, I forget). Trust my father to know the tricks of the trade. I’m glad my folks aren’t the type who see their marriage as depreciating to just a formal contract through time. I’m glad they’re such sweet, puke-worthy couple even when they’re already forty-something. I guess this is partly why I always appreciated the occasion apart from the romance. It’s not only always about the mush. It’s positive reception of love and even of friendship.
But what’s with the blog title? And the subsequent quote? Contrary to popular opinion, waiting ain't a drag if tagged by fruitfulness.Waiting won't seem like waiting if you're occupied and not obsessing about the idea every single day. And by the way, just because I don’t feel a bit of sullenness doesn’t mean I don’t look forward to that day when the flowers I get won’t be from some random frat man anymore (nothing against those guys though). I may not be your typical girl in a lot of ways, but I am still normally susceptible to kilig. I may not be frequently talking about this kind of love, but today you get to see why. Because I would like to believe that I am peacefully and productively waiting. For the first and last, yes. Gag all you want but I’m cheesy that way.
I don’t have impossible standards, just standards fit for only one. I’m not picky, just careful. I’m not about to become a spinster (hello mother… rest assured. Haha), just peaceful and productive in my waiting. I’m not unhurried, just trusting. I’m not traditional, just rarefied. I’m not impossible and trying to intimidate, just discovering the brave of heart. I’m not serious about this, just dead-serious lang naman ('coz this ain't some trial and error). And I’m not a hopeless case of idealism, just a firm believer of destiny.
So you must get it by now! I get to say this not because I have the convenience of being in a relationship, but because there’s enough love to leave no room for bitterness. I’m not some unsympathetic girl who just does not understand other girls’ plight. Hey, I’ve been single for the past 23 years of my life. Just so you know. Don’t tell me I don’t get some of you. ;)
HAPPY HEART’s EVERYONE!
