I watched last Friday's edition of Alicia Silverstone's TV series, "Miss Match" where she plays a lawyer who moonlights as a matchmaker. Too often, she gets involved in the lives of the people she brings together. She goes to a shrink who tells her matchmaking may be a manifestation of her obsessing with other peoples' love lives to avoid her own. She could be a love addict herself. Then it struck me. I've been playing the role of a matchmaker to my friends too. When they hit it off, I couldn't be more ecstatic for them. And when they break apart, I suffer from depression just as much.
Apparently, I've been living vicariously through my friends, to avoid confronting the reality of my own non-existent love life. Though I am a self confessed ultra-feminist, cold, narcissistic being, with an idiosyncratic allergy to men, it occurred to me that all these could just be a brave front i'm trying to put on, to mask my unfounded fear of rejection . That all along, I'm in denial that I actually am a hopeless romantic, a love addict even.
I've grown in love with the idea of love itself that i end up seeking it in the wrong guys. Deep inside, I could still be hoping for somebody who would turn my negative views on love around, restore my faith in love and somebody worth taking the risks. Heck, it takes guts to admit that. Then again, maybe i wouldn't have to do that. I could just be a plain cold cynic. Someone who believes that romantic love is for everybody else except herself. No rationalization required. A cynic. Nothing more, nothing less.I may even die being one.
No comments:
Post a Comment