The Gentleman and the Player

I know I shouldn't be thinking about you. It's been a long time since my mind has been filled by one woman alone. Usually the object of my desire is vague, imaginary, molded and shaped to fit my emotions as I see fit. It's unfamiliar, frightening really. I hate to think that I've lost control of where my mind goes, like an archer who has lost his focus on the bulls eye.

I know deep down inside you can't be The One. So many things can go wrong dating a woman like you, even if you claim to be a Christian. I'm so sure of that, yet we haven't even gone out even once. I have nothing but your number and the memory of how you charmed me that fateful night, when I least expected it.

The rational, religious side of me, usually so dominant and in control is suddenly drowned out by a torrent of emotions buried far too long. My only salvation lies in the fact that you aren't replying my messages anymore. God usually ensures that the doors to all paths He does not want me to go down are shut in my face to leave no trace of doubt; a necessary move to eradicate the headstrong, stubborn nature in me. My pride seals the door shut; I won't communicate with you anymore than you want to with me.

And so it ends there.

Yet one tiny part of me still secretly hopes you'd reply me, the part of me that reaches for my Blackberry every time the little orange light flickers. It's a nostalgic feeling of teenage anxiety coupled with childish impatience. The fodder is only added when I consider the possibility of being emotionally manipulated into waiting till the very last minute.

I further entertain the thought of the Gentleman's code of conduct steep within me, to avoid the Player's Game, the Bad Boy manoeuvres, the Mr. Darcy attitude which have proven themselves so loyal and true.


But then again, being a Gentleman has never brought me anywhere. Yet this time, I can only simply wait until my heart calms down and I move along with life again.


Alone.

Ego

My ego is not big enough to perceive myself as God's gift to all womankind.

But it's large enough to think I'm good enough for that one special woman who loves God so very much to trust Him to produce a dream partner for her.

But with such a mentality, my singleness can only mean that I'm not good enough to be a dream partner, or my partner is not good enough yet.

My ego helps me maintain the legibility of the former belief, because only with such arrogance can I ever expect to improve myself with sheer determination and self-will. I'm never good enough, I need to aim for perfection, and as such no one can possibility be good enough for me.


You won't believe how an inferiority complex drives action so prideful that the final result is simply loneliness and misery.

Then again, perfection cannot comprise of these unacceptable elements. And therefore, I take a deep breath, submerge these emotions under my conscience, and tell God to take a break from being my crutch.