By Kathryn Yule Mweupe Kazibwe:
Caitlin Moran said it right, “So much of being a woman is keeping secrets.”
Nobody needs to smell your scent or see your stains; you can't let anyone know what you feel inside, else you'll become a social pariah. To many a modern woman, this has risen to scary levels; you cannot let a man see that you are even remotely interested in him. Unless of course you are prepared to be turned into his own personal lapdog! It has been said that a woman holds the power in a relationship only if she loves the man less than he loves her. Which power, I wonder? Is that what we are looking for when we prettily bat our eyelids at that guy who is two tables away? A few years ago, I'd have answered with an emphatic NO to that question. I'd have gone on a rant about how in spite of all, I am a hopeless, no, hopeful romantic, and that true love does exist and is what I will keep searching for. Now, I'm not too sure.
All kinds of reasons have been given for breakups, and some of the most common ones are: I got bored; There was no thrill; It just wasn't there; I can't explain, but I just wasn't into it. (What is this recurring IT?)
Correct me if I'm wrong, but I have come to realize that all these excuses translate to one thing: He/she loved me too much. They gave too much of themselves and left nothing to mystery. And this is the basis of my current confusion. What are the symptoms of this dreaded disease, 'loving too much'? Because, it seems, I have a chronic history of it!
See, unlike most of my friends, I have thus far been unsuccessful in the art of secret keeping, when it comes to this most important of secrets. They can always tell that I've “fallen” in love! I will tell them when I miss them, and ask when next I get to see them. I will tell them I love them and send a little emoticon with the text just to get my point across. And yes, I will be unable to spend a day without communication.
Don't get it wrong, it's not like I cannot stay single. In fact, I'd much rather stay that way, with my heart safely in its pericardium rather than exposed on my sleeve! But upon the first tug I feel on my heartstrings, I transform into this girlfriend-y girlfriend, loving, yet powerless!
But now, after all the times they've asked me to dinner (or sent a text for the less sensitive ones) and let it drop that they are “just not feeling it”, I will simply come out and say it; I WANT SOME OF THAT POWER! After all, what I ultimately want is to be loved.
If my ace in the hole is in hiding my true feelings, then the next time those heartstrings are stretched taut and the butterflies flutter frantically, my face will tell a different story. Something closer to 'OK, I'll give you a chance; just don't think I'm really into this!'
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