Getting a broken heart for real would mean that I was finally loved for real. I’ve never had a broken heart.
When it comes to romance, I’ve encountered mainly four types of women:
• The Blocker: so afraid of giving the wrong idea that she suppresses her emotions, even for a joke.
• The Friend: no explanation necessary.
• The Game Changer: really does want something, but eventually changes her mind.
• The Perfect Stranger: whose eyes tell a story that the only girls who can love me are the ones who won’t.
And I’m more of a magnet for the Game Changer, which makes sense because everyone seems to think I somehow “get” women, though I’ve never been in a relationship. Once she sees through the charismatic, gentlemanly mask and finds the decrepit body that is me, however, it’s over.
Funny, how things turn out. As a baby, mother said I smiled at all the pretty nurses whenever they gave my shots. It scared their skirts off! The mysterious fascination I had towards the female gender was solved upon discovering what had happened to a childhood friend of mine. Subsequently, the disheartening news inspired me to start giving relationship advice to women online, based on the lessons I learned from Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy. Everyone sought after me, and I, to my surprise, rose to stardom with my brutally honest answers. But eventually, realization came knocking on the door and I grasped that I was the one in need of salvation, not them.
Realization can either be your best friend, or worst enemy. I’ve been made aware, ever since the fog of maturity clouded over me. I was much too young at the time, but life… what can I say? Through experiences, our unique nature is defined.
I remember the first time I fell in love with a girl. Keri had blonde hair and blue eyes and looked absolutely stunning in her white evening gown. When things inevitably erupted on that fateful afternoon, I got a good dose of reality that I never expected to be so necessary. I’ll never forget the tone of her voice.
“Ricky…” she started.
Immediately, I tried convincing her otherwise about the awful rumours. With tears streaming down her face, I realized what wasn’t happening when she talked about ruining our friendship. I was stuck in that dreaded zone, but as my world continued falling apart, the train of thought kept moving in its tracks; the progression of my weakness, being in separate high schools, and how as a boyfriend, I’d only become a burden. I made one of the hardest decisions within those crucial seconds and stopped fighting for potentials.
Although I was in tears when the day came to a close, learning the complexities of my romance was a huge weight, lifted from off my shoulders. I surrendered to the summer breeze washing over me as I watched her walk into the distant afar. My romances would always consist of hopeful beginnings and hopeless ends.
When Jeannie came into the picture, I already had a mindset that included no expectations. She was the girl who had it all, but lost everything amid breaking up with her boyfriend. I quickly became someone she could confide in, and sooner than later, we were on my first ever date, as I discovered. I promised to write about the time we spent together and she looked forward to reading it, but as soon as I revealed the story, she decided she wasn’t looking for anything romantic. This was after she wanted to start something with me. Or was I being super creepy, though asking my parents to drive around town and help stalk a girl actually deters me from being a criminal!
Do I resent her, or any of the girls who have turned me down? I never had an option with this disease, and I recognize the importance of choice. I never had the heart to hold grudges when this cross was mine to bear all along. Love isn’t genuine if you only show affection towards those who share it with you. I encourage myself whenever I make eye contact with someone and simply surrender to the contentment of hope that she is loved, because how could it not be true?
This summer, while shopping at Costco, I saw a lady passing by with her shopping cart. She had a terrible frown on her face, and in my mind, was probably a lonely housewife buying food for her bratty children. She just seemed sad. As she walked past me, I took my chances and smiled at her, and for a moment or two, had a love affair with every part of her precious heart. She wasn’t dressed all fancy and made up… in fact, she looked exhausted and her hair was a bit messy, while her clothes were kind of shabby, but I didn’t care. In my heart, she was a queen, and her returning smile was much too lovely to overlook, if I might say so myself.
On another occasion while leaving for the van, a tiny little brown-eyed girl suddenly walked up to me and smiled. I melted that afternoon because most children normally feared my appearance. I didn’t feel like a monster because of that sweetheart.
Do all good things happen at Costco? Who really knows, but although I’m lonelier than the oceans of time, I still try looking for happiness elsewhere in this bittersweet journey. I continue waiting for her, whoever she may be, despite losing a great deal of hope. In the meanwhile, my tragic character flaw is my unbreakable heart.