I was lying on the white bed as my eyes moved back and forth between the monitor and his face. He was so quiet and tense and I could not understand anything from the images on the screen next to me; I have never seen the inside of my body before but from the look on his face, the doctor was not very pleased with what he saw. I summoned my courage and I asked in a faint voice what was wrong, but he replied vaguely that something was not right. He asked me a long list of questions inquiring about things that I did, felt, saw, and wanted, then he handed me a long list of tests to be done, and asked me to come back in a month with the results. I looked him in the eye and asked if it was cancer, he looked away and said maybe. I left the clinic with an odd mixture of feelings that ranged from absolute numbness to a merry-go-round of fear, anger, and warmth; I wanted to go home and hug my cats, call my friends, hit all my exes, hide in the closet, and finally, I just wanted to cry.
After the initial shock, I decided to pull myself together and to think of how to deal with what the doctor told me. In my very systematic head I began a thorough analysis of the situation where I eliminated, weighed, and accepted options. I made up my mind not to tell anyone, not to take the tests, and not to think of death. I decided to look at the bright side of this dark scenario and I chose to look at this as a wake up call not as a death bell. We are all going to die – there is no surprise here – but how we lived our lives is what will determine how we will feel about death. One thought led to the other and I found the missing part of the puzzle; the thought of dying did not bother me but the thought of dying as though I never lived drove me crazy. I wanted to leave a legacy; to make a difference; to have some sort of an impact. Suddenly the anger and the fear that I felt earlier were gone and I was full of warmth; I was driven by a strong urge to share and to give.
The easy part was on the professional level; I decided to share my experience with young minds that are hungry for knowledge. I will leave a clear print on their present and future, and that alone gave me an immediate sense of satisfaction and a "raison d'etre". I knocked the right doors, said the right words, and got the right assignments to help me build my legacy. I built bridges of trust and respect that went beyond a classroom or a workshop. So whether I lived a day, a decade, or a century I will know that I affected so many lives, touched many hearts, and shaped many minds. I know now that with my little words I made a big difference and my existence matters, will matter, and will have once mattered.
On the other hand, the relationship department suffered. I hit my head against one brick wall after the other; wrong people, wrong relationships, wrong intentions, wrong reasons, wrong decisions, and wrong expectations. This was the real vicious cycle that consumed my energy and my life. I had issues dropping the excess baggage that I collected over the years; being judgmental, insecure, angry, aggressively defensive, defensively aggressive, stubborn, possessive, controlling, and indecisive. I also had issues keeping the men I liked and getting rid of those I did not like. I wasted a lot of passion on guys who were not worth it, yet I shunned away guys who needed it. My virtual receivers and senders had a mind of their own and my love life has always been a big mess. It took a lot of work and self talk to open myself to new horizons; basically to accept a partner who is not a cloned replica of me!
Last Christmas, I wrote a long letter to Santa asking him to dash through the snow, jingle his bells, and to find me Mr. Right. To help him with the screening process, I ruled out what I did not want; married, lost, depressed, expired, clumsy, narrow-minded, cold-hearted, mind-numbing, thick-skinned, bad English, bad breath, bad grooming, quiet, boring, or dull men were all out of the question and that I preferred them tall dark and handsome – and they had to like my curls! I told Santa to "Make sure this time he is intellectual yet sensitive; sensitive yet masculine; masculine yet tender; tender yet protective; protective but not possessive." Finally, after a mismatched pair of sneakers, a Forrest Gump, a peacock, and a false Hannibal Lecter, I met Mr. Right. He is all I ever wanted and he brings out the best in me. He was there all along but I never paid attention. I automatically crossed him out because he is of a different religion … yes …. I forgot to add that to my wish list.
My friends were shocked; some asked if I converted and others asked if he converted; some assumed that I am in it for entertainment and others assumed that he is in it for fun; some asked me if I were that desperate and others asked him if he was out of his mind. A girl asked me if it was more sinful to go to bed with a guy from a different religion than with one of our own, another asked me to try to attract him towards "our side", and many hoped that if they did not talk about it, it would go away. A guy told me that I were no longer young to fool around in such a shameful manner, another told me bluntly that my character and independence was already a hard enough package to sell in this society, and many just looked at me with a big question mark in their eyes. I sense disapproval vibes from all of those around us; my religion or his!
My argument is based on the following facts; he is nice, sweet, kind, loving, caring, tender, warm, expressive, attentive, and gentle; he has a great head on top of his shoulders that makes him quite deep and analytical; he is neither fake nor a player; he is neither pushy nor rude; he sees through me and he is working hard to accept me – all of me – as I am. He is open minded enough to go to places in my head that would scare most people away and he is understanding enough when I freak out in a crowd like a little girl who has never seen people before. He knows what comfortable silence is and he appreciates the truth no matter how harsh it might be. Mr. R has the strength to express what other men consider weakness. He loves his mother and I love him for loving her. If he does not become the father of my kids then at least I hope I have kids who are like him.
There are no absolutes in this life other than death. Forever is such an illusive word and I do not think that it has befriended anyone or anything; nothing lasts forever and no one lives forever; nothing is for sure and no one is certain of anything. No matter how far we go, we are always at square one; how many times will we have our heart broken? Who will we marry? Will we have kids? Will they be good kids? How will we live? Where will we live? When will we die? How will we die? Girls and boys meet up and break up everyday and none of them knows who will take their virginity, whose ring they will wear, how many rings they will wear, whose babies they will have, who they will grow old with, and in whose arms they will die. So whatever I have or whoever I am with, I will enjoy it as long as it lasts and come what may. Speaking of absolutes, yes, he is not an absolute Mr. Right; but he is Mr. Right for right now.
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