Caution

A guy took my hand once, placed it on a piece of paper, drew the outline and put the paper in his pocket. What the f*ck? I thought, confused. So I can hold your hand even when you’re not with me, that mushy guy said. I gave out a loud guffaw. Then realized, by the pained look in boylet’s face, that he was serious.

What’s wrong with me?! I asked myself later. A year ago, I would have swooned. I would have kissed him right there. But now every romantic, sentimental thing he does just feels like a joke.

Maybe you just outgrew all the romantic sentimental shit, I reasoned to my self back. Or maybe you didn't like him that much, that’s why I think he’s so funny when he’s being genuinely sweet.

I like him enough, I remembered arguing with my self, but it has none of that serendipitous shit you associate with falling in love. No fireworks, no stars in someone’s eyes. I’m just, I don’t know, I don’t want to take all this romantic stuff seriously. Too scared it’ll turn out to be some kind of big mistake for him, and he tells me that just when I’m starting to get serious.

I have definitely learned a lot about not being taken seriously from an ex who showered all sorts of compliments, said the right things, to win me over, and then unceremoniously dumped me.

And take this other guy, my friend, who mistook my charisma (char!) of a girl as mutual attraction. Did not consider the fact that I actually have a siren-like effect on some people as a variable in his equation. To the people I value, I am always well-meaning and charming; no one is spared by my generosity towards compliments and friendly concern. It’s not my fault men are so overcome by me (seriously!). But this guy, my friend, should have known better, really, than to assume that there was a special kind of chemistry between us because I do have chemistry with everyone (again, those that are only worth my time), albeit in the platonic sense of the word.

"Wa jud, C. Wa jud koy na feel nga chuva chu chu..." I told him apologetically when out of nowhere he asked me about the status of our relationship.

Now you know what I meant when I said I had disappointments with people’s emotional outlook now.

What’s wrong with us that we have to be wary of everything that passes between us and the people we meet? “Too much assumption is the mother of all f*ck-ups”, it says in Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels, that Guy Richie film. That’s what this guy, my friend, should have done in reaction to my perkiness. And this is what I learned to do with that guy with a piece of paper so I would have appreciated his sentimentality years ago.

We learn these lessons after heartbreak: think with your head, not with you heart. Don’t rush into things. Don’t assume. Don’t look for things that aren’t there, and don’t ignore things that are in front of you.

But whatever happened to all the other lessons we are taught when not recovering from heartbreak? The lessons we learn in love stories and song lyrics and movie lines? Take the risk. Love is possible without pain or misery. There’s someone out there for us. Don’t be alarmed if you fall head over feet. Wise men say, only fools rush in, but I can’t help falling in love for crying out loud.

It seems like some kind of oxymoron, like a mutually exclusive set of events. How can you be both wary and take the risk at the same time? Which is it really: love relentlessly or with caution?

I think it’s both. Bear with me on this analogy. When you drive, you either go fast or slow. It depends on the road you’re traveling on. You drive slowly on bad roads, so as to avoid damage to your suspension or whatever. On a long smooth stretch of highway you feel the need for speed. Sure, when driving slowly you don’t feel the rush of excitement, the adrenalin in your blood. But at least you know you’re going to get there without crashing and burning, unlike when you do drive fast but could end up hurt. So really, it’s all a matter of recognizing your road. And if you think about it, when it comes to falling in love, all roads become perfectly asphalted the nearer you get to your destination. But either way, see, you may get there. The trip may be completely worth it.

As for me, I fall in love first with the words I associate with a man: his almond-shaped brown eyes reminiscent of oases and dates; his smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes; his broad shoulders that looked like they could sprout wings at any moment; his cunningly brilliant mind that takes me to the heathens.

That in itself is my defense mechanism. That I fall in love with the words first so that later when the love is gone I still have the words that reek of romance. And one day I hope someone falls in love first with the words he associates with me.

In the meantime I continue to stop on red lights.