Memoirs of an Amnesiac

I grew up with "Once upon a time..." and "They lived happily ever after." In fact, there was one point that I truly believed all stories must end with them. I fancied corsets and ball-gowns, fancy jewelry and crowns (although when growing up, I had started to abhor them). Love life for me was always seen through rose-colored eye-glasses.

One relationship after another proved to me that the Grimm Brothers were the ones who were messing up with my neurons. They have painted in my brain happily-ever afters whose tomorrows are undefined and are only determined through booze. Prince Charming became detestable with his womanizing (imagine having all the princesses all to himself! What a greedy lot!)

I drifted from one relationship to another, trying to find my own preconceived fairy tale. But there never is, was and will be one. Like they (those who have woken up from the same disillusion) always tell me, such relationships don't exist because Fairy Godmothers are just some form of marketing strategy to let kids eat pumpkins and therefore make them see things (including relationships) in a better light!

John Dewey was right after all when he said that we learn things by doing them. Ideals are just that, ideals, existing in one's mind until one starts proving them right or wrong.

I can't say that this has never occurred to me. In fact it often does, especially come days when I desperately needed somebody other than my white walls to talk to. It is always nice to have somebody to interact with and probably take care of and call as one's own (without having to compete with any princess about his time).

So, from one relationship to another, I go and search for that man. My first love was someone I shared my firsts with: the first kiss, the first time I broke my parents' curfew, the first time I cut class because I watched a movie with him, the first time I actually lay down on our school field just to watch stars at night and a lot of other firsts that I only share with him.

The second was my college friend who taught me a lot about music. Along with the rhythms of his guitar, he taught me one lesson about loving. It's like a song. If you are happy, you find yourself identifying with the background and if you're sad, you find yourself identifying with the lyrics.

The third was someone who taught me how to risk because life after all is about risks. Loving itself, choosing to love someone even at the expense of one's comfort zone is risk enough. In end, he risked ending the relationship because of things beyond his control.

The fourth taught me how to understand why things happen the way they do. Why things fail even when we've done all our best for them not to. Why things always seem to work on their own accord. And why I needed to be reminded all the time that things don't always work my way.

I hope that the next one would be my last. I will not tell him that he is my one and only for there have been other men before him. I will tell him instead that I have grown stronger and better as a person because of my past relationships. I wish I could brag to him that he is my first and last but that would mean fooling myself.

How I hope that I would be his last.