I have to admit, I’ve watched a number of American television series for the last 2 years because it’s only been recently that I found them interesting. Well, maybe because 2 years ago I was 13, but that’s not entirely the point. Watching too much television in an unhealthy continuous marathon lead me to the realization to one of the missing aspects of a normal teenager’s life…. a love interest.
Of course, I did have one, one that I regret every time I think of it which is probably every minute, but that didn’t count. It wasn’t nearly as magical as I hoped it would be, but I couldn’t blame the boy. We were young and it was an act of impulse that none of us ever really thought of. And by that, I mean the consequences of having a first boyfriend behind your parents’ back. I couldn’t live with the guilt because it was slowly devouring me alive so I decided to end it. Not that I regret it.
Anyway, from the series and movies I’ve watched, I’ve learned it wasn’t hard to find the guy. He could just bump into you out of the blue and boom, the next thing you know, you’re lips are brushing against each other while standing on the porch. Or he had always been around you, waiting for a signal from you to see if you sense how he feels about you. That is, if you’re lucky enough to have a decent guy best friend, which in my case, I wasn’t.
There wasn’t much luck around me and truthfully, that’s always the issue because that’s where it starts. No one’s ever really looked at me for the first time with a sort of glow in his eyes and thought that I was the one. No one’s really considered me, at least not the first choice. No one has looked at me the way I see people look at each other in movies, like they could tell each other a story through their eyes that only they could understand.
I wanted that.
And I don’t where to begin. I could list down several things that are probably hindering with the fact that I don’t have a love interest. First, there’s my complete lack of allure. I’m not quite striking nor was I the cute, petite girl.
I was sailing in the middle, barely noticed. You’ll hardly look over your shoulder when I pass by. No head turner whatsoever. Second, there’s my humor that not everyone gets. Sometimes, I don’t get it myself, but most of the time I think I’m damn funny. I crack myself up most of time. But I can’t tell if I should be proud of that or worried. Third, is pretty much connected to the second. I’m painfully aware that I’m an odd person. I don’t appreciate what everybody does and vice versa. Fourth, I assume that I tend to intimidate guys from where I am. They seem to back off, some of them too uncomfortable to even say hello to me. It’s not as if I’m implying that I’m out of their league, but it’s that they’re acting like it.
I have this crazy thought that no teenage experience is complete without the luxury of calling someone your “boyfriend” or “girlfriend"; without having that one perfect kiss that makes your heart race and your toes curl; without sharing this look with someone special that makes you want to melt; without being able to smile to yourself just because… you know he’s yours and you’re his.
No matter how cliche it sounds, everyone dreams of it one way or another. I may not admit it out loud, but I desire these. I’m probably not eager to have a boyfriend, but I yearn for the feelings of having one. Those butterflies in your tummy, the smiles you can’t suppress when he’s around - a few of those perks of having a special someone is pleasing.
As much as I say I want one, I don’t wanna rush into things. Because if I ever do feel these things, I want to be sure that I share it with the right person. And I probably may never know if he’s really the one, but I guess that’s where your heart does its job. I want to take the matter slowly, taking baby steps, just to make sure everything was going the way it was supposed to be.
If there’s one thing I learned in TV series, it’s that the right person will always be able to wait… no matter how long it will be. I just hope for my sake that whoever this guy will be is willing enough to go through this.
So there you have it, the effects of watching too much American television and the delusions it brings me sometimes. Maybe I wasn’t deluded. Maybe it’s been at the back of my mind all along, but I never got the chance to ponder it until now. Rest assured, the moment these feelings kick in, I would just go with my instincts and trust that I’ve watched enough soap operas to get me through whatever love may throw me.
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