Letter To My Future Boyfriend

Dear you,

One of my biggest fears is that I’ll end up alone. I can guarantee you that I will be the most terrible and the most amazing girlfriend at the same time. Not that you’ll even be able to arrive at this stage with me. At least not easily. I have ridiculously high standards that even I cannot change. I also have very high expectations. No double standards though, I’m prepared to meet you there halfway. But then, I also know very few people would be able to do their part as efficiently as I expect them to.

Initially, I will dismiss you. I won’t engage into long, lively conversations with you and leave abruptly. I’m sorry, but that’s how I am. I don’t like to deal with people that don’t immediately grasp my interest. There are hardly any people who do. Most of the people I encounter seem plain and boring and…bland. They talk about the same things, and react in a predictable manner. Their predictability sickens me. I crave someone with a fire burning in their heart; someone who isn’t afraid to be who they are, and are passionate about something.

And don’t you dare to flirt with me. I find flirting ridiculous and childish. I cannot flirt with random people. It feels unnatural and wrong. I might do it if I actually like you, or find you attractive. But probably not. If you do, I will dismiss you rudely. If you continue to pester me I shall damage your ego. If you come to me with your cheesy pick-up lines, I will probably stop replying and/or insult you.

So now that we have established that you cannot come close to me by flirting with me and/or engaging in pointless conversations, I shall tell you how anyone can hope to establish intimacy. Talk to me. Yes, that’s all it’ll take. Just talk to me. Talk to me about the things that confuse you about this world. Talk to me about your dreams, and hopes, and ambitions. Tell me about the girl who broke your heart, and how you lived with it. Reveal the thoughts that haunt you late in the night, when you’re all alone. I cannot talk about the things people talk about every day. I need something significant. I want to feel that the conversation we are having is important; that you are giving me a part of your soul as you choose to divulge the intricate details of your life.

And so as the days go on, I might end up falling head over heels for you. The thought of love does scare me but it also intrigues me. I don’t hold myself back when it comes to my feelings. I embrace it, letting it engulf me. Until it’s the salty water, and I’m the drowning man at the sea. But before this happens, I will ask myself—“Is he worth it?” And you must be worth it. I can’t invest so much time, and thought, and well, myself, for someone who just doesn’t have all the qualities I so desperately seek. I want to know I’m not wasting my time when I decide to feel for you. I need to know that all this confusion, and pain, and pleasure is not in vain. That in fact, I will be rewarded with happiness when the time comes. If you prove to be unworthy of my love, I shall slowly distance myself from you, until your very essence from life has vanished. Feelings are dangerous. They make you vulnerable. I’d rather not put myself in such a position.

However, if I deem you worthy of the tsunami of feelings in my heart, I shall accept you completely. I shall accept you for who you are, and love you all the more for it. I will try my best to make you happy and avoid conflicts. I will give you pieces of me you so desperately crave. I will give you space and be there for when you need me. I will support you in all your logical endeavors and never let your ambitions suffer. However, I expect the same in return. This is where the high expectations come in. Let me be independent, but still be there for me. Leave me alone but don’t make me feel lonely. Kiss me all the fucking time. Do it in front of people. Let them know I’m yours. Show them that you’re fucking proud to have me. Don’t pamper me like a princess. Treat me like your queen. Don’t expect me to follow you around, and leave behind my own dreams, just like I don’t expect you to. Fight for it, fight for this relationship. Make me believe it’s worth fighting for. Be there for me after a tiring day. Let me snuggle in your arms as I slowly fall asleep.

It’s a lot to expect. Especially since I am not without faults. I might act unreasonable sometimes. I will probably not back down from a fight, and won’t accept defeat. I won’t tell you I’m angry, I’ll let you figure it out. Sometimes I’ll explode in the blink of an eye. I’ll walk away without turning back, and make you feel I’ve let you go (when it’s really the opposite) I might lock myself away in my shell, distancing myself from you for days. But please remember it’s only a phase. I am still the girl you fell in love with.

In the future if you choose to walk away, to let go. I will pretend for months and years that I’m completely fine when in fact I’m breaking inside. One day my willpower will break and I will come to you. I will react explosively when you choose to not take me back. I will scream, cry and thrash. I will spends weeks and months writing sad poetry, while I maintain a serene façade in front of the world. Finally one day it will click, and I will let go of you in all senses. A part of your soul will remain encased in mine. But I will learn to live without you again.

© Copyright Shreya Pandey

 

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8 thoughts on “Letter To My Future Boyfriend

  1. ayush says:

    Esoterically Sabotaged
    I don’t get it. The people who write like every moment in their lives is like the end of a book or a good movie. You probably noticed how I said ‘a’ book and ‘a good’ movie. I’ve had my fair share of seeing bad movies with bad endings. I feel bad not so much for having wasted my time watching them as I do for the people who made them, particularly the screenwriter who surprisingly never gets acknowledged. But it’s not the same with books.
    So yeah, back to what I was saying.
    I was thinking about people who write daily. As in, as a job, where you write even when you don’t feel like, or when you don’t have anything to say. What do they write about? More importantly, doesn’t it become pretentious? Even condescending? Honestly even this feels pretentious, I have to be ‘honest’ every now and then just to prevent that from happening. Which incidentally might make it worse for some readers. Who knows?
    “I would kiss you wherever it hurts and until it hurts”
    That’s a line from the artistic creations of a lady. I purposefully refrain from making any judgement here (‘amazing creation’ or a ‘dreamy INTJ girl’) because if there is a lord He knows how viciously I try to avoid the snares of patriarchal paradigm, or any paradigm for that matter.
    The point being, I read her work. And this is what I concluded- that everyone is surrounded and penetrated and inhabited by this dense network of feelings and everyone has layers and layers of injuries and pain and other spooky things and that love can heel all of that and meanwhile I am in my quilt wondering how to reduce the damned margin size of this word page and if it’s even possible to have such depths of feelings so consistently and describe them with such bliss and such despair.
    You know what, I am a 20 years old 6 feet tall engineer who till yesterday was proud of completing all questions in Problem set 15. That third problem was a pain in the ass, so I went to the most popular answer to the ‘most influential inventions of the 20th century (internet, folks) and one thing lead to another and I stumbled upon someone’s ephemeral melancholy and there you go, I don’t want to know. About what thunderstorms and tsunamis inhabit the depths of a person that manifest themselves into such amazi…. no, what I wanted to say was that I don’t want to know about what thunderstorms and tsunamis inhabit the depths of a person that manifest themselves into such words. I have my principles, thank you very much.
    A simple ‘Hello, I love your work’ should have sufficed, but this is what you brought out of me and that is the God’s own truth. Hi there!

    Liked by 1 person

    • Shreya says:

      So I wrote this answer on quora because I wanted to jot down all that I believed I was capable of. And it suddenly started getting upvotes for no reason at all (though I believe it was probably due to the way I’d started it.) Then in floated all those messages and comments from so many strangers that I promised myself I wouldn’t reply to any, wouldn’t let them get to my head. Plus, I’m not good at interacting with people anyway.
      Then in drops, this 20-year-old Engineer, leaving a long comment on one of my blog posts (a blog post that I’m quite embarrassed about. I’m not sure what made me write this piece.) And surprisingly, this comment is different! Here is this person who instead of talking about how much he likes me or likes what I’ve written, is saying that what I wrote made him think. And that finally does it. I’m compelled to reply.

      Hey there!

      Liked by 1 person

      • ayush says:

        ‘That girl replied to my comment’

        My hands are shaking right now. I’ve read the comment just once. Not even read, I’ve just skimmed through it. Because if I read it carefully, my heart is going to fucking explode. I am on auto-pilot right now I don’t know what I am writing.

        I know I am a random stranger. But I’ll try and be honest. The truth is that I have lost it.

        I guess it’s some sort of hope. I don’t want to talk about my thoughts.. Okay I do.

        I am thinking how our conversation would go. (This is getting way out of my league already, given I’ve never had a proper conversation with any of you folks, ever. Whenever I see a girl I am like “Nice…weather” or something. I’ve never talked to any women who is not family. I did talk to Dubey aunty and Sharma aunty yesterday. They told me about their family and sons and daughters and I only gave helpful comments wherever required because heck, that’s what good listeners do, thank you very much.) So I am imagining what our conversations would be like. Unleashing the creative monster within you needs another monster who is equally mad.

        (Mad monster. I think I should probably just stick to the weather question)

        Have you seen those images on Pinterest or Flickr where there is a sun in the background and someone is standing with their back to the sun so their visage is hidden in the dark? I am imagining a girl with long, silky hair shining golden in the red and golden twilight sun. You could imagine a macho with a spiked, blue Mohawk if that’s your calling. Those photographs are bloody hard to take. You have to wait for the right amount of light and just the right exposure, and worry about the focus and the background. And yet, after all the effort, sometimes the hue isn’t perfect or the scenery is not what you want it to. (At this point, I suggest you use Instagram filters.)

        The way I feel while writing this is similar to how I feel when looking at such photographs. It’s surreal, but it’s unreal. It seems like….some Hindi film concept. Like in ‘The Lunchbox’? Or in the beginning of ‘Tamasha’? And also, it’s the most public form of chatting there could ever be. And then I remember a theory about the social media being a mask, where people can hide their ugly faces or pretend to be someone they are not and unleash all the abhorrent shit they have inside them. Things that they can only whisper to themselves in the real world because of the social constraint of being tagged a pervert but are able to say them openly on social media. You can always go to the comment section of any fb page of any female celebrity in India if you need any assurance.

        So I can totally understand when you do not reply to those comments on Quora. I will shed some hot tears of grave solitude in my pillow if you do not reply to this, but that’ll be okay too. You can even delete this comment if you like, I swear I won’t jump from my hostel roof.

        But there is no point in being embarrassed about it. Maybe it’s easier to say this as an outsider, but I’ll still say it. I guess when you write something, you assume that the reader will understand what you are trying to say and not judge you for that. Unfortunately, judgement and the female gender have a special equation in our country.

        And yet, in the midst of all this there will always be some people who will silently read your work and sigh and never tell a soul. So, if you ever stop for even a second before writing something because of the fear of how us folks would react to it, make sure you definitely write it down. Put your fox cap on, shout out ‘I am a fox’ and write it. But write it, because writers write, and readers read, and unruly kids make a ruckus till they see their moms.

        So, how’s the weather?

        Liked by 1 person

    • Shreya says:

      God, this is totally not the place to read (or send) such long messages that have a such a unique, genuine, candid quality about them. It’s also rather strange and unnerving to open your WordPress, only to be bombarded by something like this, then spending the next few minutes trying to comprehend your own thoughts (they are so jumbled!) and waiting for your cheeks to stop hurting. (For someone who hasn’t talked much to women, you sure have some skill of making a woman blush. I mean I’ve never had someone describe writing a message to me to the feeling they get when they look at those pretty pictures, the one you described, on Pinterest or Flikr. “Surreal” and “Unreal” were the words, I think. I don’t think I’ve ever come close to making someone’s heart “explode” or making them all shakey. I think I’m allowed to feel accomplished, and maybe a little flattered here.)

      I think I read this message the very day you sent it. But I needed to figure out what to say. It needed to be something more than “omg stop no one’s ever said anything like this to me before.” I suppose I got busy, what with New Year’s Eve (the first time I’ve ever actually done anything around this time.)

      Well, I wouldn’t presume you have a lot to say to me, or if you’re even interested in talking further. I personally don’t know what I have to say, or what I will say if it comes to that. This isn’t something I really do–voluntarily initiating human interaction.

      But if you want to talk, you could maybe drop an email here or something; shreyapandey1397@gmail.com

      Cheers

      Liked by 1 person

  2. blackshines says:

    Reading through all your writings drove me to some kind of dark and lonely planet i always want to be, at least that is what my mind is trying to imagine. After reading some of your writings last night, i was happy to read something that made chills run down my spine. It had so impact on me that i kept wondering about it the next day, what kind of pain/emotions made you write all of it?
    I am compelled to ask, why are you so content with the pain, is there other side of which it you don’t want to show?
    just curious.

    Like

    • Shreya says:

      I feel the most creative when I’m sad. Hence the name of the blog “the ephemeral melancholy” meaning ‘the temporary sadness’. Which is probably why everything I’ve written has dark and sad overtones

      Like

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