Jimmy is getting married in August. And I think again of that old fact – that all the guys I fall in love with, after our breakup, meet the right girl for them. Let’s see.
My first love actually had a thing with another Japanese girl, but as far as I know, he’s currently engaged with a blonde. The first real boyfriend, after that December, hook up with a girl and had a child with her (I really don’t know how they are today). Ok, so there are people I really lost and I have no idea where in the world or how in the world they are – that’s for that hammer worker, the literature teacher, all the small affairs that were one-night stand or one-time kisses; but hey, not that I really care about them.
The blond cartoonist who found himself the soulmate (she’s a plastic artist and all good, also Japanese descendant); the rock band drummer who got engaged (and she seems so cult and vintage!); the film buff who was the perfect guy found the perfect girl for him (coincidence? she’s also Japanese, only more alternative-concertsfocused-200milespeed-forth than me).
Midways, there were a few who found out they are gay, and European men who also got their women right. How about that great love of yours for whom you suffered so much? Oh, well, once I thought that he got it right, but honestly I don’t know now (the photographer and the model? come on, that was supposed to be great indeed. But men are men and women are women).
The funny thing is, recently, I find myself less and less afflicted by that. It seems it was so long ago I wrote this post, and if the reader thought it was all b*llsh*t, only a fallacy, it turns out it’s not, it’s real. Breakups don’t seem to affect me as they used to. And I’m actually impressed with myself on how cool I’ve been dealing with certain mishappenings. Perhaps I love these last ones less than before? Or I simply grew colder and impassive? Like when you are vaccinated, you get shot and antibodies generate a natural defense for your body. Did I get shot too many times and now I count on with this impenetrable armor? Cause really… with the French guy I was hurt a little (and I was already surprised I actually overcame without such deep sorrows), but this last one caught me off guard and still I sensed nothing at all.
Or, perhaps, this is the resulting experience of really practicing being unattached to certain things – that whole buddhist thing, really trying to see the other’s side and being happy if the other person is happy, really being open to whatever the world brings us and accept things we can’t change as a chance (compassion). After all, I feel blessed in so many ways. That I was able to be in so many places and meet all these different people and feel love – again that whole angel concept by Win Wenders, to be human and enjoy being alive while we can, in every aspect, enjoy humanity.
Once, I told myself that if the buddhas wish me to be a real monk and never get married nor have children, I would be ready to accept that condition. Me, such a romantic person, since I was a little kid? Yes. I could accept it, because when we really see and feel life in all its complexities and beauty, fulfilling small society’s expectations doesn’t really matter that much. I rather be alone than be untrue to my heart? You bet. There’s a point when you don’t need to show others you’re happy, you can just be happy (it’s your choice). Choosing to be happy, remembering what is good in your life and how much good you can make… it’s the best vaccination, against breakups, depression and so many maleficences modern society have been generating as of late.