I have jumped off waterfalls in a remote cave. I have danced all night beneath the stars fueled only by adrenaline. I have swum alone in pools waiting for the morning mist to clear. Yet I've never fallen in love, never known the thrill of elicit high school affection or the tentative sweetness of that first kiss.
I read this statement and feel a crippling sense of embarassment, the same overwhelming shyness that comes over me whenever I get asked pointed questions about my perceived past relationships.
Trust me when I say this is about as awkward as any social situation can get, especially for me who likes to look like she's got her life together.
Don't get me wrong, I know my life is charmed in more ways than one. But one thing that sometimes keeps me up at night is the stabbing regret that I missed crucial experiences in my life. I will never know what it's like to hold hands on your first date in high school, never have the bittersweet priviledge of reminiscing the abrupt end of an innocent puppy love.
Everything would have seemed more important at 16, when the sheer bliss of youth demands nothing more than for you to feel everything in a mad crazy rush. I think I got too scared to say yes, to get past my own insecurities, too frightened to convince myself that I was good enough and worthy of being loved the way I wanted to be loved.
There were some who came close, too close for my own misguided sense of comfort. There was D who was sweet enough to tell my that my face was anything but unpretty. There's Q, who sent over four dozens of French macarons which I gave away in the deranged notion that eating them would make me fall hopelessly under his spell—I remember cracking a joke about them being laced with a love potion.
How careless I was with their emotions then, thinking only of the selfish need to keep my walls up. Harsh replies and sarcastic jokes were my weapons of choice. I must have seemed so uncaring of how much courageous gestures cost.
I really don't blame them for giving up when my every action and word was calculated to drive more distance between us.
It wasn't because I thought they're all not worthy of my attention. I kept them at arm's length because I was afraid that if I let them get too close, I may not stand up to the scrutiny of being their perfect dream girl. I work so hard to project an image of self-confidence yet underneath that shiny penny façade, my head is crowded by self-doubt. What makes it worse is that every year that passes seems to add an extra layer of fear.
I've often been accused of having high standards that no guy can ever match. I guess I know now that I will never deem myself quite ready enough, never be that perfect girl my vivid daydream constructs demand me to be. But why do I hold on to this idea when I know that every day, people find love and learn to accept each other's imperfections?
I can give myself no clear answer. All I can do is tell myself to let go of these fears and continue to live a life that inspires and thrills me. And with each passing day, I hope to be a little bit braver so when I meet whoever it is that's meant for me, there will be no barriers of my own making in between us.
It will be just him and me, and all the infinite possiblilities I thought I've lost stretching ahead of us.
To all the boys I've snubbed before, I am very sorry. In a fight between me and my personal demons, I find myself always losing. I've heard about how happy they are now. I only dare to hope that one day I'll be brave enough to grasp that kind of happiness for myself.