I was 23 when I first went out on a date, fell in love and had my heart torn apart. It was all so different then. And it’s not because I had no idea about men, dating and relationships at that time. I remain clueless about those subjects until now. It’s because love was new at that time.
Staying up all night long to exchange text messages with a guy who first made my world stop was so intoxicating. Who cares if it was the night before a long exam in SDS 211? I was so inspired that despite not having slept a wink I got an uno anyway. And even better than getting that grade was the shrill thrill of the first kiss.
Getting an “I AM CRAZY FOR YOU ANJ” SMS now will definitely make me want to either roll my eyes or start a thorough background investigation on the guy. It would just have been a source of pure kilig seven years ago. No line was cheesy or hokey then (In the first place, I didn’t know that guys have pickup lines ready for use in any situation) and my this-guy-is-shitting-me radar (that continually gives off a warning signal nowadays) has yet to be developed.
How I loved how he strummed Jim Croce’s Time in a Bottle for me, not knowing that after our break-up I’d play the same song every morning of every day for almost a year like a torturous personal anthem. That’s when somebody told me these fine words: “It’s better to have loved and lost than get stuck with a jerk.”
When love was new there were no expectations, points of comparison, hang-ups, unfinished business, emotional bruises, and unhealed wounds from previous relationships. All was fresh and unsullied. When love was new, I was not afraid of being hurt because I had not concept of pain and heartbreak. I had no idea how excruciatingly painful it can be to have one’s heart repeatedly torn apart; or how extremely difficult it is to maintain a relationship and keep the fire of love burning.
When love was new, I held nothing back. Now that love is no longer new, I am still not holding anything back. Is it a case of not learning from my mistakes? Perhaps. Or perhaps not. What’s the point of loving if you can’t give it everything you’ve got?