Puzzle Pieces

A long while ago, back when I first started MidnightMochaLatte, I made a post: “Knight in Shining Armor”.

It was coupled with this cute rhyme I came up with while washing dishes one night after he gave me a granola bar:

(Context: I hadn’t eaten in hours and was starving and was stuck on campus, the cafe was closed, and I ran out of cash. Had plenty in the bank, but ran out of hard cash. Remind me again why credit/debit cards are so useful.)

I’ve since made an edit:

Now… some of you are going to start scrolling back and back, looking for “Knight in Shining Armor”. And you won’t find it.

I’ve deleted it.

It was part of spiral and it was done. (If you’re one of those people going, “Spiral? What’s a spiral?”, go ahead and scroll back to “I’m Me”, originally posted May 7, 2021 at 6:11 A.M. EST).

In any case, I cite that post not to give you context, but rather to introduce the topic I came to a realization about this morning. I was drinking a cup of chai, listening to Javed Ali’s “Ek Din Teri Raahon Mein” from the 2007 Bollywood film Naqaab, alternately walking circles and dancing around in my living room, talking to him. The version of him I have stored in my head.

He was questioning me what was different about this one.

Yes, in this particular daydream, I was engaged to a version of Raj. Forty-eight years old, salt and pepper hair and beard, jeans, and a white button down shirt. I’m not quite sure why that was the particular version I decided to love this time. Who knows what my subconcious is trying to play at? Although it might just be that I like older men who still look good. Logic says if a twenty-year-old guy is hot today, there’s no guarantee he will be tomorrow. The same logic says if a fifty-year-old man is hot today, he will remain hot ’til his last breath, taking mine away with every step. Dramatic and true to a fault.

In any case, he asked me what was different about Raj? About another man? About another person? Because how many times have I said I’ve been in love? How many revelations? How many heart beats of whack? How many times have I said “This one’s different”?

In the tangible realm of reality, one too many of my friends give me this look every time I talk about a new crush or a new love. What’s new? What’s really ‘new’? They tend to get quite bored when I start raving about the way he smiles or the way he holds me or the way he walks and talks all sexy-like, the way he dances, the way he makes me want to see the see stars, the way he’s the smartest of the hot men I know, the way he’s probably one of the only people in the whole damn world I know who has the sense to balance emotion and rationality and who taught me to. Once or twice, before I even open my mouth, they can already guess that it’s another guy (or occassionally, not a guy) that’s captured my attention now.

I’m getting redundant.

So, though only one person has ever braved the question (probably because it was out of pure curiosity, and not out of judgement), everyone’s thinking it. I’m thinking it.

What’s different about this one.

And it’s interesting, after making a joke to his girlfriend (oh, we’re back in my daydream by the way) that she better be grateful to this version of Raj because he’s the only reason I haven’t tried to steal her boyfriend (which is a bunch of b.s. but was a fun dialogue in my head and must be written in one of my future novels just for the heck of it), I knelt in front of him and told him, it’s actually quite simple.

Mind you, my subconcious is always talking, and I have revelations after not before so this was an impulse, an instinct, it just happened. And here is what I say:

“It’s quite simpe, [insert Best Love’s name here]. You said ‘no’ and he said ‘yes’.”

And then, seeing the shocked looks on everyone’s faces, I took a step back from his and laughed.

“No, that’s not the only reason. I mean – Occam’s razor. So, it definitely is one reason. But also, you’re right. We would’ve never worked.” Here’s the reason I quoted “Knight in Shining Armor”. The majority of the post was me complaining that this amazing man has decided we would not work in a million years and me claiming we could if we tried. And I don’t care how many sunsets we pass, and even if I really don’t want to be with him right now and, to the best of my knowledge, I do not romantically love him, I will always hold on to the fact that, yes, if we tried, we would’ve worked. We would have.

But here’s the real question: Do we want to?

Sometimes, it’s not about whether or not a couple (or more than a couple if you’re polyamorous) can make it work, but rather whether or not you want to.

It’s not even about: Is this person worth the effort? No. That only applies a handful of times when you are working with a complete creep (or, additionally for me, hypocrites).

Interestingly enough, it was my Best Love that said a while ago:

But ultimately, it goes back to a basic principle that one of my good friends once told me:

No, not falling in love. No, not securing a relationship. No, not trying to convey your feelings. All of it crazy difficult and just crazy. But loving someone should be easy. You shouldn’t have to take your puzzle pieces and smoosh them together hoping they’ll fit. There shouldn’t be sacrifices in the least. And compromise? Sure, that’ll happen now and then – it must. And that too will feel easy. It might take time and conversation, but it’ll be easy when it comes. Effortless. No one’s hurt in the process. No one’s losing a part of themselves.

And that’s when it hit!

For me, not my subconcious, regarding him, not the him in my head.

For all the logical ways we could’ve worked, would I really have given up such a huge part of myself for him? Or made him change?

Sure, it would’ve worked. Sure, we would’ve been worth it. But would we really have been happy? Maybe. After about a gazzillion years of work. And sacrifices – not just compromises – but sacrifices to no end on both our ends. We would’ve been bargaining. I would’ve made him give up his homeland and political stances if I’d change my religious beliefs and gave up being a virgin for life. And it sounds so cruel. Because it is. And neither of us would ever be that cruel or subject ourselves to such cruelty. If for no other reason, simply because we’re both too subborn for our own good. It’s not even that we wouldn’t want to. We’re incapable. Of compromise, maybe not. But sacrifice? Hell, yeah!

Which it something I think he realized long before I did.

It took me long enough, a little short of a year, but I figured it out.

When you said you couldn’t see us working, I admit I was offended. And as much as I appreciated all the praises for how good and accomplished of a person I was, all I kept thinking is, “If I’m so frikin’ awesome, why ain’t I gettin’ at least a coffee date?” I figured it was all words, all just ways to appease me. Calm me down. You always did it best. But I’m realizing that you didn’t mean I wasn’t a good person and you definitely weren’t self-degrading (you’re also one of the most highly self-esteemed people I know). No, it was simply that we didn’t fit.

And we shouldn’t have to make it work even if we can.

I shouldn’t have to be a full-fledged Hindu any more than I should have to convert to Catholicism. I shouldn’t have to give up wanting two to four kids but I shouldn’t have to force myself to get pregnant instead of adopting. I shoudn’t have to give up learning how to cook a seven-course meal just so I can find a partner who can. I shouldn’t have to give up daily chai and midnight mocha lattes. I shouldn’t have to chose between a multitude of a careers. I should never have to leave my homeland nor should I be forced to vote or say the pledge “under god” in the pledge of allegience. I shouldn’t be with a homophobic man even if he is a man and I am a woman. I shouldn’t have to tolerate transphobic people even if I’m not transgender. I should not have to entertain Islamaphobic people even I’m not the least bit Islamic. These are boundaries that I don’t need to cross. These are the little things, that don’t just accompany who I am, but make me who I am and I should not have to give them up for anyone.

None of us should.

Yeah, some of us are dumb enough to or at least consider it like I once did, but we shouldn’t have to.

And that is why I am crossing names off of my list. Because despite the fact that I deleted the list from phone after nearly two-and-a-half years, let’s face it – I’ve been holding on it in my heart. Memorizing every single name (and code name).

And if we started listing, we’d be here forever. But just to name a few that I’m crossing off today:

• My Best Love / Knight in Shining Armor
• My Lady Love / My Bestest Friend
• Boy in the White Hoodie / Man in the Blue Suit
• Mr. Perfect / Mystery Man
• The Idiot
• Tinder Man / My Third Ex
• Tinder Man 2.0
• My Dancing King
• My First Fiancé / My Second Ex
• The Australia Guy
• The Virginia Guy
• Subway Guy

That’s the short list. After that it’s mostly places I’ve met people or places they live and a bunch of actors. And there are a lot who I haven’t code-named at all. And each name falls off the list. Don’t get me wrong – it’s not that I don’t love these people. I love them. Some I admire, some are best friends, some are platonic soulmates, some are mentors, some I mentor, some will hold a permanent place in my heart to some degree or another for the rest of our lives. But I’ll never be with you.

These past few days, I’ve been living in my memories… And I’ve been beginning to love quite a few people romantically or at least contemplating if I do. (Thus, my last post, “The Little Things To Accompany Who We Are”). I’ll admit, I was smack in the middle of that in relation to you this morning when this daydream hit. And I stopped. Because I realized, if I try hard enough, I might fall for the world. Let’s face it, I’m as unprejudiced as they come and I gush and fawn over every minute detail. I don’t give a damn about age, sex, gender, religion, political party, citizenship, location, ethnicity, race, language, career, job, wealth, anything. I will always find something to love. Even in the most broken and damaged person around. Did you know a certain psychopath in history liked to paint before they started killing people? But do I want to date them? Hell, fucking, no! (This person in particular fits the not worth it column). Damon Salvatore? I might give a chance but only my daydreams – because apparently vapirism is the loophole to falling in love with psychopaths. I’d say I “But I digress” but I do not. It is relevant.

Just because I am capable of falling for every single damned being on the planet romantically (doesn’t mean I will but I am capable) doesn’t mean I should or want to be with them.

So, then, who is/are my puzzle piece(s)?

Time and hope.

That’s what I’ll bet on.

That there is someone out there to fit us perfectly. They may not be perfect. And we never are. But our fit is.

You found your puzzle piece. I just have to find mine.