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Thursday, March 23, 2006
Frog Prince By Reynan Sularan The eminent
SHE loves me, she loves me not, she loves me, she loves me not, she loves me, she loves me not, she loves me not.... She doesn't love me.
Yah, right. She doesn't love you. You're only assuming. And your idea of giving her roses on her birthday and surprising her with a candlelight dinner will not work. You always advice others that the classic trend of writing letters and chocolates are still the best arrows to penetrate her heart even if you find these 'baduy.' But I like the courage you showed; you swallowed your pride and did all these 'baduy' things just for her.
Before you met her, you courted girls like a whirlwind - they said yes in a week. On Monday, you enter a chat room, you become chat mates and got her number. Tuesday, you meet her. Then comes the date --- watching a movie or a conversation over a cup of coffee --- on Wednesday.
On Thursday, you have an understanding. Sex comes on Friday. On Saturday, you break up and brace for the next girl on Sunday.
Those were your idea of collect and collect and select the best.
I said, "C'mon men, girls need to be loved."
Do you know karma? It bites twice and when it bites, it hurts --- more painful than being stung by a bee. It's like the sum of all the hurts you had, to the point that you'll say, "I don't want to do this again."
But, of course you are unaware of what is going on because you feel you are more of a man when more girls fall into your pit.
But too late, karma just visited you today.
Strong
Now, she walks on your conceited road. She comes strong and full of authority and ingeniously could break the rules you made. She came to tell you that women actually came from Mars and not from Venus. And the illusion that you are the boy next door who could charm girls in a blink of your eye has turned into a tale of a prince-turned-frog and never returned to prince again. That is dreadful. Like you don't want to read fairy tales anymore for fear you might end up dreaming kissing Bentong.
Admit it, this girl is different and you like her. Your killer line "You heart gives mine a reason to beat" sounds "what the hell are you talking about?" to her. Watching a flick and conversation over a coffee shop are not her ideas for a date, which is a shocker to you. So you start to rattle because you no longer know what to do. After all, this is the only best routine you have.
So your new plan is to ask for advice from your old-time friend --- a nerd and weird. His records in courting a girl are the worst, according to your criteria. But he has a girlfriend now - your ex-girlfriend, the former campus bitch.
"How could I get a girl who is tougher than me?" you ask your friend.
Now your weird friend with thick glasses formulates a love potion --- the same he used to get your ex, while you look like a poor little boy asking for a lollipop.
You ate your past advice. And now you call yourself a poet, a self-proclaimed Shakespeare who writes poems.
You talk to the stars, to the moon and to yourself. You connive with the postman, flower shop delivery boy and Charlie and the Chocolate Factory to deliver her your daily letters, flowers and chocolates. You go to places unknown to you. That's sacrifice, man. For the one you love.
The only problem is your infamous reputation. Are you really sincere? What if
you are still playing games? Are you really man enough to love her? These are the questions that bother her every night. And below that problem is a series of problems. Does she feel the same for you?
Assuming that she doesn't love you because you're a player . . . well, stop this mess, man.
Enough. I will make a placard tonight which says, "Stop playing games with women's heart."
If you can't have them all, at least share them with me. Of course, you can't spend time with five girls in a day. That is impossible. Give two to me and I will shut my mouth. Deal?
(March 23, 2006 issue) Write letter to the editor. Click here. Join the Sun.Star message board. Click here. |
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