Got Hit By A Truck Lately?

After forcing myself to learn how to detach myself at the end of my 2nd year of high school, and having known the whole while the gives and takes of doing so; I am now confronted with the fallen pillars of that building of opportunities I have long ago demolished. They lay outstretched on what could remain a desolate path to what "we" call--"success". The problem with self-made&directed vows of not getting attached (and not to date) is that after a while, you run into the conundrum of its purpose.
Before entering high school, a friend and I made a pact that we wouldn't date at all. My friend broke her pact that same year. I've kept my pact; it is still in prime condition, although that's not to say that the opportunities weren't there. I think that the main reason why I was able to keep this pact with myself can be found in my desire to keep away from "the testdrive", "the assembly line"; because that's how I perceive dating: it's a testdrive of suitors in whom you either (a) have some physical and/or emotional attraction to, or (b) have no physical and/or emotional attraction to. The problem is that, in this generation, majority of my peers take the "practice" of dating to be some kind of "sport" or "activity". After a few weeks of "dating" and "getting to know" one's supposed significant other, he tells her or she tells him that he or she loves her or him; most often without giving any consideration as to what love is. There are some of us that overanalyze the definition of love, and go into some sort of research to "find an answer".
One of my faults is a habit of overanalyzation and a reversion to logic to explain many, many things including intangible concepts like love and hate, etc. I know this is my fault. It is my weakness. It's rather funny, actually. Ever since I was way, way, way young...kindergarten, perhaps...lol...my family (my mother in particular) instilled in my head that any form of connection--emotional, physical, whatever--with the male sex was completely out of the question. My older sister made this very clear in Junior High, when she told me that if she "ever find[s] out that [I] have a boyfriend, [they] were going to pull [me] out of that school and shave [my] head bald." They would designate a spy to keep an eye on me at most of the social events I attended. Many a times, those spies would be them themselves. Can you imagine how introverted this has made me? Probably, not. Most people don't think I'm that introverted. I am, I'm just good at presenting myself as being otherwise most times. Even so, what could I expect in a family whose values are comprised mostly of conventionalism, Catholicism, and...Asian-ness? So, the end result was a psychological wall barring me from ever being okay with openly loving and being loved. I've broken the rules. I was never caught breaking the rules when I did. I haven't broken any rule since I started high school. I had my high school years in junior high. ;) At Hopwood Junior High School, so you know.
There are two main things I want to discuss: (1) my could-be regret for having kept my pact, and (2) how I've misunderstood love..
1. My Could-Be Regret For Having Kept My Pact: How can I expect to grow? How is it that I could have ever believed that I could plan when to graduate from here, when to move here, when to graduate there, when and who to fall in love with there, and when to marry then, and when this and when that? There are things in peoples lives that just happen. There are things we simply cannot plan. Love doesn't give a fuck about time and doesn't give a fuck about your plans. We cannot organize our lives; just as one cannot organize time, energy, or the entropy of the universe. We could try to measure them, but we cannot plan and organize them. Keeping my pact, I look back on all the opportunities I could have had. It's sickening that I'm calling old and present admirers and willing quest-takers "opportunities". They are opportunities to learn though. It's ironic that the pact was established to preserve the sanctity of love; and yet in keeping the pact I've abolished what should have been my basis for being able to determine what love is, if ever I do encounter it (or if I have already, for that matter). In this sense, I feel as though I'm a robot...how do I know? How will I know? I've know experiences in my mental database that will help me distinguish love. I've blocked out almost all of that sector of my life. How I see it is that the sectors of one's life are analogous to the sections of the SAT. It would be nice if you got a perfect score on the math and critical reading section...but if you put and got nada on the writing section, then you fall behind. What sucks more is falling behind because you missed one section when you know you could've faired well in it...given you had practiced and learned more about it--something perfectly within your capabilities.
2. How I've Misunderstood Love: Not long ago, I thought I had found somebody who loved me. He'd known me since Junior High, and I had no idea who he was until just late. I did hear his name passed around a few times before I officially met him, but I still didn't know him. Heck! Who's to say I know him now! Who's to say he knows me? Who's to say he's ever known me... Anyway, he had liked me since Jr. High but had never been able to work up a nerve to say anything to me until this year. He seems like a silent genius. He surprises me with how he says things and things he does. He's the classic example of how our criteria for stereotypes is faulty for misconstruing people. He loves family, and respects women. He's a gentleman. He listens not only to his parents, but to mine. He waited for me for over 5 years. It was nice. Time I spent with him was nice. He really cared for me; I don't know if he still does. Anyway, his supposed love for me got me to think of whether or not I loved him back. I tackled this issue for a number of days while keeping communication limited. I had to think about whether or not I'd loved him. I didn't. I don't. If you have to think about whether or not you love--or better yet, whether or not you are in love--with someone, then you don't love them. You can't love them. I was weighing the pros on cons about loving him. That isn't love. There shouldn't be any reason as to why you are in love with someone. You just are. It's that simple: you just are. When I think of what it would have been like if I had broken my pact for him, I could picture me stoic and dispassionate. It's like marrying a man for his money. He becomes your benefactor who gives you financial stability and feeds you. But does he feed your passion? Does he feed your innate hunger? Does he stabilize your moods? Will you love him when he's broke? Will you have married him if he was broke? No, no, no, no... Money becomes your reason for pretending to love him, wherein my case, his love for me (and not my love for him) as well as his characteristics that fit the criteria of a nice lover becomes my reason for pretending to love him. I don't want to pretend. I want genuine passion. I want sincerity. I understand the case between compatibility versus love. You can be compatible with someone, but that does not specifically mean that you love that person. Also, you can be in love with someone...and wish they were more compatible with you...you could wish they agreed with you more on this, you could wish that they enjoyed sports more or read the news more, you could wish that they were more physically endowed to fit your tastes of physical endowment, you could wish that they talked more, or talked in a certain way, or talked more about a certain thing--but in the end, fact is, you love that person; despite all the clashes in both of your personality. I want that. I want the kind of love that doesn't give a damn about compatibility, but just finds two idle humans and smacks their metaphysical identities together so many times that you just can't picture living life without the other and the thought of a life without ever having met that person becomes purposeless. I want that. This is not to say that your lover can't also be compatible with you. I just..want the real thing. (I want to be able to recognize it, too. Refer back to last paragraph. lol.)

So that's my blog... It's hard to miss people you haven't met or identified yet. My widow's peak saddens me. You know how my head forms a heart-shape when you look at it? That's because of my widow's peak. The peaked bit of hair pointing to my nose in the middle of the hairline bordering my forehead..yeah...it reminds me of the quote that goes:

"Everyone keeps telling me that the right guy will come along. I think mine got hit by a truck."