Today I wrote a letter to apologize to a friend for something that happened one year and two months ago.
She was (and still is) a great confidante to me but I feel that our weekend vacation to Chicago put a small dent in our relationship. We never talked about it, but it’s been in the back of my mind. I could never quite explain it, but after writing it (and coming) out, it was much easier piecing things together.
Close as we were, we got closer during that trip. Being the guarded introvert that I am, things started crumbling when I realized how close she was getting and how my walls were being lowered. I wasn’t used to opening up, and the tipping point was when I brought up my belief in soulmates. I gushed about I’m sure such a thing exists and that too many people settle for what is convenient, what is around them. And yes, so many people spend their lives never meeting their soulmates that way. (In hindsight, my martyrdom for the concept of soulmates must’ve been built largely as an excuse for not finding “Mr Right”. Well WE KNOW NOW, DON’T WE.)
Of course she would ask me what I thought my soulmate would be like. It’s called predictable conversation and I should’ve anticipated it before I even brought up the topic. But nope. My defense mechanism kicked in and it was all hands on deck to quick-build these walls. Igloo that shit up. And for the rest of the vacation I was more guarded and introverted than ever.
We never talked about it, but the dent was palpable.
A couple of years ago, I decided that 27 will be my best year.
It wasn’t a decision as much as it was a strong gut feeling. And my gut is almost always right.
It’ll be my best year assuming I’ll:
- be in a good place in my career;
- have sufficient funds in my bank account;
- have a more concrete understanding of my identity;
- have my own place;
- have traveled around the world;
- have found ‘the One’.
Okay, so the last point was a bit of a stretch, but at least, I would hope that at that point, I would’ve gone through a few “the Ones”. I’ve never been in a relationship and the thought of being in one is absolutely terrifying to me – the vulnerability, the emotional commitment, the dual dependency, the compromises… But enough about my baggage.
I’ve reached fewer social milestones compared to other people of my age (I’m a product of Asian suburban parenting). In terms of my career, I’d say I’m more ahead than most people my age (although this could change very soon) and it’s been fueled by a great deal of compensating – working harder to avoid realizing my own sexualiy, working harder as a way to distract myself from these social milestones…
So if I want 27 to really be the best year, I can’t leave it up to fate. I have a lot of catching up to do in the four years between now and then. I owe myself a lot of “yes”es.