I guess I can safely say that I am definitely not an impatient person. But just how patient I am? It’s hard to affirm.

Sure, I can wait an hour in a queue, even though I seldom will unless it is totally necessary. Food, no matter how good it is, and free gifts, no matter how worthwhile they may be, are certainly not in my list of necessities. Jigsaw puzzles? I can do that. We’ve at least four 1000-piece puzzles hung at home and I had contributed to most of them. Although to be honest, my ever-impatient dad was surprisingly the one who spent the most time on them and fitted most of the pieces. My dad who can never wait for more than 15 minutes for his food, cannot wait for the next train to board and won’t wait for the green man to come on at traffic junctions can actually patiently sort all 1000 tiny pieces into different colour categories and fit them all from scratch into one beautiful final art piece. My dad never fails to amaze me and I suppose that he has learnt to be much more patient in recent years. He even enjoys gardening now, which really tests patience. On the other hand, I would be impatient and want to complete the entire puzzle at a sitting even if it means sacrifising my sleep, which of course would never succeed and lead to me losing interest in the half-done puzzle on the third day. However I can sit down for hours on a stretch doing craftwork, again tending to refuse sleep until I finish it.  

Well, I suppose it depends on what interests us. The more interested you are in something, the more effort and time you are willing to put into it.

Now here comes my point.

Does it mean that I have no interest in men then?

That captured your attention, didn’t it?

But that doesn’t mean that I’m more into women. Women fail to turn me on at all.

However it’s true that my interest in any particular man never lasts. It can be fiery passion I feel this week and all feelings fade miserably by the next. Especially if I think that the feeling is not reciprocated or mutual. I do not bother to persist and persevere, which is rare considering that determination and perseverence are probably two of my greatest virtues in life. I do not bother to know the fellow better or let him understand me more. I just give up and let it die. Now, that doesn’t really sound like me either! I don’t just give up! Yet in relationships, it is my friends who persist and fight. Girls, not without any suitor waiting in line, who yet choose to work hard and fight for the one they (think they) love, wait for him to reciprocate, try to understand him more in the process. Even though there is a possibility that all are done to no avail ultimately.

Why can’t I do the same? Is it because it’s still not the Right one? Is it because I’m incapable of love? Is it because I’m not very interested in the opposite side?

Not sure, maybe, no and not really.

I have a heart of stone.

I suspect that I may be more afraid of getting hurt than falling in love. I used the word “suspect” because it’s a guess, even though not any random one but a carefully made one after much analysis. It may be our own brain and it may be our own heart, but often we cannot explain why we do the things we do. Perhaps we do not understand ourselves as much as we think or feel that we do. Hence this is my guess. If love is not such a high-risk and low-return gamble, I may be more daring to just let go and dive into it. If the man you like always feels the same towards you, I may not always need to think twice and thrice. If his and your feelings towards each other stay the same permanently like diamonds on the finger, I will fight for the man and stay with him through thick and thin. But alas! love is not merely a simple affair. If it is, everyone will be happily married, but unfortunately I cannot say the same even for many married couples.

With concern to matters of the heart, I think I am more willing to have stagnancy than brokenness. I have a friend who is still single and has kind of been pinning for this guy at work for ages. While I think that it’s incredibly sweet of my friend, who similarly has no lack of suitors, I feel that it’s not worth the pain she has to go through and that I probably can never do the same. Which explains where I am now. Is it sad? Sometimes it is, especially when I think about the possibility of facing the four walls by myself in the decades to come (assuming I won’t die young). I’m not terrified of loneliness or solitude. I just suppose that it would be nice to have someone I love and whom I’m sure can make me smile by just scratching his nose and every single word that comes out from his mouth makes me laugh somehow. I know, I used “nice” like it’s something I can order off a menu or buy off a shelf in a supermarket. Like “oh, this plate of chicken rice is nice!” or “This bag is nice!” But I cannot seem to find a better word.

For my friend, I truly hope that her deep feelings for that man will be reciprocated eventually. For myself, maybe one day I can meet a man who can make me feel as willing to give as my friend too.

 

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