the butterfly effect

Yesterday, a friend and I had a discussion about what we looked for in the opposite sex. Months ago, I listed some superficial requirements in an old entry. This time around, after much thought, I retracted my answer and replied "Chemistry" - someone who could give me butterflies in my stomach.

When I was a schoolgirl, I placed my crushes on the good lookers. As I grew older, I realised that looks weren't that important, so I went for boys with a good sense of humour. Then I discovered that it wasn't enough because guys who could make me laugh usually have a dark side and would make me cry just as much as I laughed. Then I met a boy who was suave, who made me nervous, so I ended up being dull. I also had one dude who tried to crown me his queen and looked at me with puppy eyes. I couldn't stand his clinginess, so I broke up with him, but he refused to leave and camped outside my house while I talked to him through my security door. That was an interesting year. Then I met a nice guy and after three years, it didn’t work out.

So, when I claim that I want someone who is 170cm+ in height, who is witty and who isn't a stingy bugger that only calls me during Vodafone free time, I was wrong. I want someone who can give me butterflies and someone I have chemistry with. It doesn't matter if he's daggy or a bad dancer - as long as sparks fly when we're together; he's the one that I want. Actually, I was serious about how I don't want a stingy bugger; I can't stand tight asses. My point here is, it's been a long time since I've met someone that I'm attracted to, and it's ridiculous for me to bind myself to guys who measure up to such unrealistic requirements. Even if I did find someone who had the prerequisites, the following could happen:

a) Lack of chemistry between the both of us.
b) I feel the chemistry, but he doesn't.
c) He feels the chemistry, but I don't.
d) We both feel the chemistry, but are in denial because we've entered the Friend zone.

This, in turn, throws me back to square one. I'm not in search of a perfect boyfriend or any boyfriend for that matter. Boyfriends are like socks. When you want a nice fitting pair, you can never find one. All the different coloured socks in your drawer and not a single pair go with your sneakers. So why must we all analyse so much? Just let nature take its course. However, if my stupid cupid can see this page, I'd like to ask him to aim properly next time!

Butterflies. When you experience that sense of nerve and anxiety from meeting someone, should you surrender to those feelings or enjoy them for what they're worth? That sensation can be described as paper-thin butterflies fluttering about within your stomach. The butterfly effect works differently for everyone. My butterflies start from that first moment of attraction and then the hopes that he knows that I exist and falls equally in love with me. As he sustains my expectations, the tension just builds stronger and stronger, praying that nothing is going to stand in the way of those butterflies rushing to clinch the pothole of my stomach walls.

I don't need to seriously fall in love right now; I'd be content with the butterflies because I'd rather have the butterflies in my stomach making me feel alive and full of optimism than an empty tummy with no sentiment, no jab in the gut to tell me that this is the one, this could be it. I like the sign even if it's in the form of a butterfly.

smitten kitten

You know that you like someone when the thought of them makes you happy. When you replay your conversations with them and feel like you can laugh out loud.

Oh, hello butterflies... It's been a while :)

silent conversation

Above all else, we long to hear that satisfying click when pieces of ourselves and fragments of another person fit together, like a space rocket docking smoothly at the space station among trillions of twinkling stars.

Midnight chats carved into the guts of our adolescence and seared into my memory, naive yet intoxicating in their nostalgic infatuation. For the connection to hold, it had to be mutual. It had to move through honest conversations that flowed both ways. To understand and be understood, we had to break down walls and pay attention. You were the first to truly know me. Between our banter, I sometimes let you ruffle my feathers to amuse your boyish humour.

Handholding, hair twirling, hearts racing. Warm hugs, French kisses, bodies intertwined. Never underestimate the power of touch. Discovering new ground and stumbling through more firsts than I was ready for, I thought we were madly in love. With juvenile hearts and restless minds, we believed we could test our desires, but in hindsight, the real drivers were hormones and chemistry. What makes young “love” so unstoppable? At an age when we were still innocent, even after the flame dies, embers cling and keep the memory glowing. An unfinished romance can haunt for years, stories left untold.

I shoved our past into the back pocket of my mind and cast us off as one of my biggest mistakes. I could not and would not revisit those feelings. You were not worthy of my time. When triggered, buried memories rushed back, flooding me with embarrassment at my fatal attraction. For years I convinced myself you were not special, that what we shared was fleeting. I did that because I believed that was how you felt about me, too.

Until yesterday, when you finally said what should have been spoken many moons ago. It would have saved me years of regret and resentment. I guess this is what they call closure.

the first move

I'm mentally practicing the art of asking a guy out. Well, I'm technically not going to ask him out, but just hinting for him to ask me out. Or at least manipulate him into asking me to meet up in a non-committal way, just as friends, just because. But I do, of course, have somewhat of a hidden agenda. Only not a very well-hidden one. It's like an agenda wearing a fake moustache and aviator glasses. You know it's meant to be a hidden plan, but the whole disguised aspect just really isn't working. My best friend says that I'm so transparent that I can't even pretend to hide my sneaky intentions.

I'm not one to take the first step. I'm a chicken nugget, and my friends think that guys are afraid of me. They've got good reasons to, and they're damn right in trusting their instincts. If I weren't me, I'd warn guys to stay the hell away from me. She's a mess when it comes to relationships! Run! And don't look back! But, being me, it's my own mental health I need to look out for. I'm only kidding. I've grown up since last year (but it's only March!), and I think I'm much more mature when it comes to relationships. So this is me, casually wading in the kiddie pool of "taking the first step." In the hopes that maybe, just maybe, one day I will dare to jump in the deep end. Without my floaties.

My friend has been contemplating for months about asking her crush out. I've tried to motivate her, but she's still not game enough. I guess it's because she likes him a lot, so she's got a lot to risk (like her dignity, job, reputation at work, you know, nothing major). So I have it easier because this guy and I don't really know each other yet, but we had that comfortable vibe going from the beginning, so that makes it less painful. Besides, I'm gambling with free money here. I have absolutely nothing to lose. I'm not even asking him out; I'm just going to talk to him, and if he wants to ask me out, then that's up to him. (Though, I know I'll be disappointed, my ego will be bruised, and I'll whinge about it if he doesn't).

Someone told me that the next person I go out with could be someone I might end up with. Only because we're all getting old! I mean, there's no point in engaging in another three-year relationship and ending up with nothing/no one. It's all about investing now, eh? Are we only supposed to date marriage material guys now?