The day that everyone single hates, the new year celebration, is here. And at the moment I am probably shutting down my brain and heart, greeting people who only show up annually, and walking around like a programmed robot.
I have no idea what’s going to happen this time when someone asks me the same, just so shallow kind of questions of “When are you going to get married?”, “Why are you single?”, “Aren’t you looking?”, which, now that I think about it, are less severe than the straightforward, “There is a nice young man that you might…”
I wasn’t born only for that.
Now, it’s not that I hate the idea of relationship that much, but I do not agree with the whole expectation that women my age should be “married by now! Or at least engaged.”
It’s not that I don’t want it at all. I just don’t see it as a goal, or a mission. I see it as, if it happens, it happens. If it doesn’t, I won’t die and rot like how they make me feel I would if I ended up alone.
Because, what if it’s not what I want? What if, I want more?
Nobody cares enough to ask.
Of course, not like I expected more from people who don’t even call.
Nobody asks, “What do you want to accomplish this year?” but everyone is eager to know what my currently relationship status it. Nobody even starts with, “How are you doing today?” and starts speaking to someone else in the room, referring to me as if I’m not in the room, going, “Is she dating?”
And I’m not the only one. A lot of my friends are going through the same, annoying, repetitive torture.
“We want what’s best for you,” they’d say, in a tone that can’t even convince a drop of my blood of any sincerity.
It is a basic bullshit that we’ve learned by heart by now, that we just don’t care about anymore, and right now, pass by like an unwanted breeze in winter.
Wanting what’s best for me means caring about me, asking me what I want, asking me about my dreams, and my passions. Wanting what’s best for me means knowing what makes me happy, not making me do what you believe I should do just because the rest of the world is. I wasn’t born for conformity, but you wouldn’t know if you didn’t ask.
So ask me.
Ask those girls. Ask those boys. Ask them.
Stop assuming you know what they want. Stop assuming you know what’s best for them when you only see them once a year. Stop saying you care when you don’t even ask how they’re doing.
But it must be very difficult to do, since in many places in this world, it’s just “the way it’s always been.”
So good luck to all of you who are going through the same thing I am going through. Good luck to smiling all day, hoping the day will end soon and free you from the nightmare.
I do hope that there’s someone who’ll ask, someone who’ll look me in the eyes and ask me, “So Devina, what are you going to do this year? What are your plans?” And perhaps even if they poke the relationship status issue, they’ll be more open minded and won’t lecture me on how women’s biological clock is ticking and stuff. Because I’ve heard it a million times over.
To the rest, I just hope they won’t even ask me anything other than, “Can I have more cakes?”