Tuesday, April 21, 2009

17 Again

One of my friends asked why there didn’t exist a relationship status like: “It’s simple”. Like there doesn't exist a "simple relationship".

Actually, until my friend even mentioned it, I didn’t think there was a choice other than “complicated”.

I didn’t think relationships were anything but cumbersome obligations. This may largely have something to do with the fact that my very first real relationship was already a serious one, from practically Day 2. Day 1 being the day that we agreed to be in a relationship and Day 2 being the day that my then boyfriend started ruminating out loud about a “future”.

I was barely out of college when he then progressed to the idea of marriage and the need to plan the road map to get to that destination.

Rather than be giddy with anticipation and excitement, I freaked out.

I was 21, brimming with plans, dreams and ambitions. I was still wide-eyed at the prospect of a career and making it big. And on the practical side, my four figure salary was barely enough to cover my own expenses for transportation and lunch. I couldn’t imagine how it could possibly fund a marriage.

But my then boyfriend was relentless. He would take every opportunity to dream about what a life together would be like. He would wish aloud that he didn’t have to take me home after a date, saying that he couldn’t wait to start a life where we could go home together.

I was not so easy to impress. I would deflect these pronouncements with shots of reality about how we would probably have to go home to each other’s parents as we didn’t have the resources to live on our own.

A year or two into the relationship, he proposed.

I suppose it was a marriage proposal many girls would kill for (sans the small engagement ring).

The glorious sunset and white sand that my country is famous for was the background to the a story of how grandma and grandpa got engaged; a story sure to regale many future generations of grandchildren.

The tears of joy that I imagined such an occasion would bring didn’t come. Instead, I was able to give a feeble, “Okay.”, which I quickly qualified with: “We can get married, but just not now.”

But yeah, I was flattered. (C’mon, I’m not cast in stone!)

It was flattering, but at the same time, it also brought so much expectation and anxiety.

All of a sudden, little flaws were viewed through the “My god, this is what I am going to have to live with for the rest of my life?” microscope. There was so much pressure to make it work and work everything out. And soon, the relationship became, well, like 'work'.

I wondered what it would be like to be in a relationship that was stress-free, one that didn’t always beg an answer to the question, “Where is this going?” and “When are we going to get there?”.

I wondered what it was like to be in a relationship where my own only worry was homework, beating curfew, and believable alibis -- rather than saving up enough to put in a joint bank account.

He complained that all his other friends’ girlfriends were giving ultimatums and making veiled threats about a marriage proposal, hurrying to beat the clock before 30, whilst my attitude on marriage was cavalier and detached.

Well, not so detached apparently as I eventually gave in to the whole marriage thing. It seemed like I would never know what it was like to just “date”.

Of course, at the way that my life unraveled, dating again became pretty much a necessity, a mandatory chore to signal starting over again.

And by that time, surprisingly, (well, not really), men were looking to settle down and have babies whereas I had already been there and done that.

It seemed like the idea of fun, carefree dating -- and all the giddiness that comes with it when you’re 17 -- would remain a concept that would elude me forever.

And then I met someone.

Someone who was just going to be in the country for a few months.

Admittedly, it was the thought that there was little time together that fueled the whole “we-have-to-make-the-most-out-of-what-we-have-and-relish-every-moment” feeling.

But I didn't mind. It was this feeling that allowed the relationship to develop in an easygoing and simple way. There was no future to speak of and everything was lived in the moment.

The answer to the question “where is this going?” was a restaurant or a movie. The future was next week, not 5 years later with kids and a mortgage.

It was exactly what I had imagined dating at 17 to be like -- hassle and concern-free. It was even better than I imagined because we had more than a meager allowance, no homework (but busy work schedules to contend with) and the best part, our own apartments.

Even some of our dates like the ones with Kiddo, were junvenile. We would hang out at the skating rink, the arcade and end up at a burger joint for dessert.

Luck was on our side for a while and he was able to say in the country, giving us more time to be together. And for two years, it was a relationship that I would describe as simple and yet happy.

But as it all good things, an end came and he had to go away. We knew it would come to, but even knowledge of the inevitable didn’t make it less painful.

We began to dream of being together again. Our easy going ways were replaced by hope and the management of time difference. There was pressure to keep things as they were so that the other would somehow remain a person of flesh and bone and not just a voice over the phone.

And just like that, it became a relationship with adult demands.

The 17-year-olds had to grow up -- fast.

Who knows if they will have the maturity, the patience and tenacity to see this through till they’re of legal age or at the very least, 18?

All I know is that I was given another chance. For what seems like an all too brief moment of two years, I lived and loved like I was 17 again.