A Welcome Curse

Many of you know that I am a part of an unconventional family structure with three parents, two biological and one adoptive. I had my fair share of questions about this atypical setting, but through time, I realized how blessed I am to have Mama, Papa, and Mommy—three living parents at once. They, especially my Mom, clearly epitomized unconditional in palpable form. The love and fondness they gave me is just too difficult to describe and put into words. Most would think this is a blessing. I sometimes deem it a curse.

As a child, I was provided with almost everything. I relished all types of support I ever needed: financial, physical, emotional, psychological, name it. I was filled with so much love growing up. I vividly remember the time when I screwed up in uni. People were doubting my capabilities. I even doubted myself. Dreams were shattered almost to a point of irreparability. But Mommy was there. She believed in me when no one, including myself, did. In an instant, I was back on track.

People still wonder what the reason was for me to have eminently faltered at that time. And as some of you might have guessed, it was all because of love. I fell deeply in love, a love without regard to anything, not even self-destruction. In introspection, I ask: why am I capable of giving too much love, leaving nothing for myself?

I trace it back to the curse. I have been loved dearly by many. By some means, I feel the compulsion to share the same love with the people around me. The feeling is relentless. This self-imposed coercion even intensifies when romance enters the picture. I become unusually aggressive. Most of the time, my no-chill attitude gets in the way. The likelihood of a premature end is high. 

Is it really a bad idea to give it your all? Do you really have to give in to these unnecessary reservations and just wait for the magic to happen without lifting a finger?

A few weeks ago, I started dating again. Surprisingly, I found myself heftily swiping, mostly to the right, after a relatively long period of hiatus. By some stroke of luck, I matched with a Boston-born-Seoul-raised-NJ-NYC-schooled lawyer. The profile was admittedly interesting. The photo captions and responses were candidly intriguing. Who wouldn’t find a lawyer whose actual frustration is becoming a novelist riveting? Immediately after I was push notified of the match, I sent a straightforward hi to break the ice. Seconds later, I got a response. The conversations went on and there simply was chemistry. I am particularly attracted to how this yuppie pivoted trivial subjects to sensible and philosophical discussions. For the first time, after lurking in what is believed to be a haven of immaturity and mundaneness, an odd one out.

As the connection deepened, the thought of finally meeting in the flesh also surfaced. I suggested the idea of having a casual dinner to kick off the face-to-face getting to know, as I would normally do. We both agreed to check out this new dim sum spot in the East Village, an idea that resonates a lot with our Asian heritage. We had a good meal and decided to grab a scoop of ice cream at a nearby artisanal shop. A couple of hours didn’t seem to be enough for our conversations so we ended up moving to a tea shop a few a blocks away from Union Square. I was engrossed. Casually, I found out that the lawyer I was talking to is Princeton- and Columbia- educated. And what’s astonishing is that this piece of information didn’t throw me off the track. I would normally be awestruck by such stellar academic accomplishments. But I wasn’t. We talked about our families, our brand of politics, our interests, our future plans. Time went by so fast. We only decided to wrap up when we had no other choice but to leave as the barista was already kicking us out of the place.

“Thanks. I had a wonderful time. Good night,” I said through a text message.

“Don’t thank me. I had a wonderful time too. Good night.”

I felt the arbitrary and inexplicable connection right then and there. I knew that something could blossom from it. I was never the type to get excited by hookups and anything carnal. This instance just proved that genuine connection can be established at the onset, and the physical and non-physical may be compartmentalized. To some extent, the feeling was magical. It, however, became taxing because of all the overthinking I was subconsciously doing. I’ve become too fixated with the possibilities and the idea of us dating, for the lack of a better term, entertained me. My tortuous mind consumed me.

Days after, we still exchanged hi’s, hello’s, and a few interesting thoughts. Us hanging out for the second time was definitely something we talked about. We even exchanged wink emojis as a way to spice up the conversation. But all of a sudden, there was silence—the deafening kind. Maybe that’s the end of it all? Who knows.

Through the years, I have developed a reputation of having a voracious dating appetite. Do I think it’s startling? Not necessarily. I believe chemistry is extremely hard to find. When you find it, hang on tight. You’ll eventually find someone who’s gonna hold on tighter. Don’t blame yourself for going “overboard”. You’ll eventually meet someone who will appreciate all of you and your hopeless romantic crap.

I recall a conversation I recently had with a colleague. He said that the relationship you have/had with your parents, albeit of a different kind, speaks a lot about how you are and will be as a partner. This relationship molds your personality and influences the thought process and mindset you will eventually have. This made me ponder. True enough, as in my case, the undying fervor and infinite affection I got from my parents pushed me to be the kind of lover I am today. Sometimes lenient, but most of the time intense. At times, I see myself fearing the unexpected: becoming a cynical and an incapable-of-loving monster. But a snap back to reality tells me that having such fears is a healthy sign of humanity. Having such preposterous thought reminds me of the level of awareness I have as regards my environment and my reality. It goes without saying that I am not yet the person who I fear to be. And for this, I just continue to thank heavens that even after all the failed relationships and missed connections, I still am my usual self. I remain hopeful without the need to build walls around me.

I know I am cursed and I don’t mind. At all.

[Image from: Big Love Ball NYC]