Love,Imperfect

He would not be ecstatic that I chose this aptly titled post to re-emerge out of my self-proclaimed hiatus.He wouldn’t approve (of the genre),actually,but will still support,ofcourse..and,before I get ahead of myself, I need to state that when Sonu Nigam is crooning “Kal Ho Na Ho” into your ears, at an ungodly hour as this one, you cannot help but be a bleary-eyed romantic.
(The fact that I’m a hopeless romantic at even the most practical times of the day does not help this situation.)

I read an article on the “Thought catalog” which stated, sic, “One day you’ll find a man who appreciates your quirks.He won’t mind that you bite your nails or always turn your alarm off after the first ring.He’ll understand that you’re a morning person,but not a coffee drinker.He won’t roll his eyes when you choose sweet wine over beer,even at football games. And he’ll never tell you that you are being too loud,too silly, or too much.
One day,you’ll meet a man,and it’ll all make sense.”

After the obligatory ovations of gasps and murmured “aww”s were complete,I began to think a bit more practically (word used only to serve the purpose of an antonym to romanticism here) about this tiny excerpt.

Yours truly has a certain fascination towards the dramatic. I would hence,safely say that I do,infact, require a lot of putting up with. And that I would NEVER admit to that,except in those rare-occasional bouts of self-doubt where everything I do is reflected through the jarred mirror of twisted unreality before it reaches my sleep deprived eyes. But,with proclamations of love, and whisperings of sweet nothings, comes the other,uglier,more emotional, dramatic bit: He has seen me being batshit crazy (yes,that is the term.The term that tries and fails to describe the amount of crazy that surpasses the craziest of crazy.). He has tolerated mood swings,lashings out,withdrawals, excessive enthusiasm,indifference, and downright madness. And stayed. If I were in one of my starry-eyed phases,I would look at him with devotion gleaming in my eyes,and say the three magic words.
But,since I feel more sassy than starry-eyed at the moment, “I win,mister” have to be accepted with the same amount of love,or a little extra helping of caustic wit (Both of which he incidentally excels at.Nothing big.)
Long story short,yes ,one day you meet them, and you don’t have to wear the mask of everyday civility. You can be the silly,loud,uncivilized monster that you generally are when nobody is around,and they will still look at you with that gleam in their eyes,sporting a tiny smile that causes movements that would put plate tectonics to shame, in your belly. Forget butterflies.Tectonics are for real. (He would say something on the lines of “… or, just an upset stomach, maybe! ” and perhaps you will understand what I mean when I sigh dramatically and exclaim that the boy is unreasonably unromantic.)

He makes me believe in myself at the most difficult of times: not through silly, sweet words,but with staunch,practical reasoning.He also is probably the only person who can put me in my place,albeit gently,when I am crossing boundaries and sticking my nose,up in the air and in matters where it does not have any business in. Vida Ideal! -The ideal life. Isn’t it?

Well, I’d think twice. (which incidentally is lesser than the usual average number of thought revisions a matter receives.Good thing? Or bad? I’ll file this away for further contemplation.) For all his qualities, the boy is not a knight in shining armour,and,by no means, “the ideal prince charming”. He stares at me cluelessly,like a fish out of water,when I’m sobbing helplessly over the latest fictional tragedy,for crying out loud! How do we teach these boys to proffer comfort when people are emotionally distraught?! He will never come up with plans to go out,he would never bother managing calendars, he would always prefer his sleep over you, and he would forget about this date that I have been looking forward to for quite a while, and when a distraught yours truly FINALLY gets through to him,all worried and almost ready to file a “missing persons report”, he would nonchalantly tell you that he went to gym instead. Some divine calling to make him change paths like this? No sir,nope.He just happened to see his gym bag lying around, probably looking more enticing.

There are times that we fight,like lawyers bickering over alimony,and the aftermath is ugly,because I never can go to sleep knowing that he is miserable,really.The irrefutable knowledge that I am the reason for the said misery doesn’t really work wonders with my system. Nevertheless, (if you were wondering when the “practical” bit was actually going to appear,here goes…) ,nevertheless, he still is the best thing that’s ever been mine. (sorry not sorry.Taylor Swift writes well.Get over it.)I wouldn’t change a thing about him. (Which ballad are these lyrics from, now?)

We have these expectations of all-pervading acceptance, and immense loyalty and a love like no other;and we are so engrossed in daydreaming about those,that we seldom realize that our significant others deserve the same,too!
Ofcourse, with love,and understanding, most of this comes involuntarily; BUT, we are generally prone to get mad at the smallest of things: How could you forget the date? Why aren’t you a little more romantic? Why are you siding with the person I dislike? Why do you dislike them now,when I have made peace with them? How could you say THAT? Why couldn’t you say this instead? How could you be so “insensitive” to my feelings?(when they are in fact lending a weary but patient ear to all your senseless rants!) How do you not understand what I mean to say right now? (when I myself don’t,most of the time.) HOW could you get mad at me when I directed us along a wrong path when it’s clearly the GPS-lady who is at fault? and WHAT do you mean I can’t have your chocolates? HOW could you BE so selfish?Hain?!

Erhm. I think that would be more than enough to convey the point I intend to make: Understand them.
Even if you don’t, always remember that unless their tiny habits are nothing but mildly annoying character traits (flaws) ,sorry ,traits, YOU DO NOT THROW TANTRUMS. A little forgetfulness is not going to kill them, and being a little more forgiving isn’t going to kill you.In my defense,I would say I over-react only keeping his best interests in mind. But,this,at best, will be a blatant half-truth, because we don’t really “think” when we are amped up and ready to grumble,do we?
Fortunately, we always talk everything out,and are currently happily engrossed in the never ending process of bringing out the best in each other, while being silly juvenile delinquents who crave each other’s company a tad bit too much over acceptable norms.
C’est La Vie.

PS: This could be a well-crafted work of fiction with absolutely no relation whatsoever to any living person and his habits.
Or, not.

Said living person mustn’t be mad about this article, because they simply aren’t allowed to.They must also know that they are loved, and act blessed because that, apparently, is (should be) the only thing that matters!

PPS=I’m surprised at this first post of 2017,which was spontaneous and penned down in the middle of the night.2017 is indeed a teacher. More about that later,though.
Have a Happy New Year,folks. Apologies,if I was a bit rusty.