When Heartbreak Cannot Be Shared
A fictitious entry from a fictitious blog kept by a fictitious person:
It was not too long ago when I attended the wedding of one of my dearest colleagues and truest friends. It was a small wedding as weddings in our country go. No more than 130 people attended, mostly extended family members and close friends of the newlyweds. Like most other weddings in our fair country, the wedding was held at a swanky hotel complete with all the suitable accoutrements.
I was with the groom since the beginning of the day. I was to be the band of brothers who would help to barge into the bride's patriarchal house, ably defended by the bride's gaggle of sisters. The day proceeded smoothly and with much hilarity. Amongst the sisters was one whom I had once professed my love to, but who had eventually walked out of my life. That was a time long ago, in a place not so far away. Through the proceedings though, I was able to keep a smile on my face, be jovial and moreover be determined that this be the best day of my buddy's life.
Throughout the afternoon and into the early evening, prior to the banquet, the band of brothers were kept busy helping to tie up loose ends, and make final arrangements for the big dinner. Nonetheless, I had to admit, it was one of the best times of my life, and one which I would not easily forget. Someone whom I counted as a bosom friend and treasured comrade was finally getting married, and if I could play but a tiny part in making his day all the more memorable, then I would pull out all the stops in making it happen.
And so it was, tired, bedraggled, but more than a little ecstatic, that all the outstanding arrangements were finally made, and the wedding could proceed. A wave of weariness washed over me momentarily, and it was all I could do to stagger to my designated table and take the first empty seat I came to. Coincidentally (or perhaps it was my sub-conscious mind at work), it was also the seat beside the "sister" I once gave my heart to so long ago. And that was when I could only pause in shock when eight voices around that same table chorused that the seat I was about to plonk myself into was reserved for a special someone; a someone purported to be the current partner of the lady I used to love.
Except that I wasn't sure if even now, I was not in love with her.
It was all I could do to smile in what I hoped was a suitably sheepish smile, and then shift to the only other available seat at the table. And after that, for the next ten minutes, it was all I could do not to walk out of the banquet hall. For at the moment, I felt that I wanted nothing, absolutely nothing to do with the people seated around the table. With that one chorused teasing statement, the gashes in my heart, the scars which never truly healed, were once again torn asunder, like so many rice-paper tatamis caught in a gale. I wanted to lash out at something, anything. I wanted to bawl my lungs out. I wanted to scream and yell. And I wanted to cry.
I did none of those things of course. It was my buddy's wedding.
It took me a while to recover my equilibrium. Those people seated at that table, I counted some of them as my dearest friends and colleagues too. And they did not know the story I shared with the lady I was about to sit beside. They were never at fault. It was a happy occasion for all, and they were indulging in good-natured teasing. It was just my fevered imagination, inferring meaning and undertones when there was none. So why the fuck did it hurt so bad?
I took refuge by running around like a mad dog. Did not want to stay at the table for a moment more than was necessary. It helped that I was helping to coordinate both the sequence of the wedding and the beverage aspect. It gave me ready-made reasons not to stay at my seat. It took until almost the fifth dish of the nine-course dinner before I was able to compose myself sufficiently to make small-talk with the rest of my table companions.
Now, a couple of days after the event, I've realised a few things. For one, I do not harbour any ill-will towards any of my dinner companions; I count most of them as my close friends and the rest as treasured colleagues at the very least. They did not know any part of that portion of my history. They did not say what they said out of malice. Even the guy whom the seat was supposedly reserved for, I cannot dislike, for he is an upright and responsible man, who, I have to say, would make a competent life-partner for my past paramour.
But then, I've also realised that I still harbour deep feelings for that lady seated three places away from me that night. Is it love? I have no idea, for it has been such a long time since I've dusted off those feelings and brought them out into the sunlight. That night thought, it was driven into me like a silver stake, that I have those feelings still, and may yet have those feelings for her for long long time.
I can only wish her the same thing I've sincerely wished my two newlywed friends: Live a long, fruitful and happy life, and may your special someone, present or future, give you the happiness you deserve.
Ed: This is one of the rare posts from someone else whom I've been able to really identify with. I hope the writer of the post above can soon recover from his hurt, and find happiness whether with the girl he wrote about in his blog, or with someone new.
It was not too long ago when I attended the wedding of one of my dearest colleagues and truest friends. It was a small wedding as weddings in our country go. No more than 130 people attended, mostly extended family members and close friends of the newlyweds. Like most other weddings in our fair country, the wedding was held at a swanky hotel complete with all the suitable accoutrements.
I was with the groom since the beginning of the day. I was to be the band of brothers who would help to barge into the bride's patriarchal house, ably defended by the bride's gaggle of sisters. The day proceeded smoothly and with much hilarity. Amongst the sisters was one whom I had once professed my love to, but who had eventually walked out of my life. That was a time long ago, in a place not so far away. Through the proceedings though, I was able to keep a smile on my face, be jovial and moreover be determined that this be the best day of my buddy's life.
Throughout the afternoon and into the early evening, prior to the banquet, the band of brothers were kept busy helping to tie up loose ends, and make final arrangements for the big dinner. Nonetheless, I had to admit, it was one of the best times of my life, and one which I would not easily forget. Someone whom I counted as a bosom friend and treasured comrade was finally getting married, and if I could play but a tiny part in making his day all the more memorable, then I would pull out all the stops in making it happen.
And so it was, tired, bedraggled, but more than a little ecstatic, that all the outstanding arrangements were finally made, and the wedding could proceed. A wave of weariness washed over me momentarily, and it was all I could do to stagger to my designated table and take the first empty seat I came to. Coincidentally (or perhaps it was my sub-conscious mind at work), it was also the seat beside the "sister" I once gave my heart to so long ago. And that was when I could only pause in shock when eight voices around that same table chorused that the seat I was about to plonk myself into was reserved for a special someone; a someone purported to be the current partner of the lady I used to love.
Except that I wasn't sure if even now, I was not in love with her.
It was all I could do to smile in what I hoped was a suitably sheepish smile, and then shift to the only other available seat at the table. And after that, for the next ten minutes, it was all I could do not to walk out of the banquet hall. For at the moment, I felt that I wanted nothing, absolutely nothing to do with the people seated around the table. With that one chorused teasing statement, the gashes in my heart, the scars which never truly healed, were once again torn asunder, like so many rice-paper tatamis caught in a gale. I wanted to lash out at something, anything. I wanted to bawl my lungs out. I wanted to scream and yell. And I wanted to cry.
I did none of those things of course. It was my buddy's wedding.
It took me a while to recover my equilibrium. Those people seated at that table, I counted some of them as my dearest friends and colleagues too. And they did not know the story I shared with the lady I was about to sit beside. They were never at fault. It was a happy occasion for all, and they were indulging in good-natured teasing. It was just my fevered imagination, inferring meaning and undertones when there was none. So why the fuck did it hurt so bad?
I took refuge by running around like a mad dog. Did not want to stay at the table for a moment more than was necessary. It helped that I was helping to coordinate both the sequence of the wedding and the beverage aspect. It gave me ready-made reasons not to stay at my seat. It took until almost the fifth dish of the nine-course dinner before I was able to compose myself sufficiently to make small-talk with the rest of my table companions.
Now, a couple of days after the event, I've realised a few things. For one, I do not harbour any ill-will towards any of my dinner companions; I count most of them as my close friends and the rest as treasured colleagues at the very least. They did not know any part of that portion of my history. They did not say what they said out of malice. Even the guy whom the seat was supposedly reserved for, I cannot dislike, for he is an upright and responsible man, who, I have to say, would make a competent life-partner for my past paramour.
But then, I've also realised that I still harbour deep feelings for that lady seated three places away from me that night. Is it love? I have no idea, for it has been such a long time since I've dusted off those feelings and brought them out into the sunlight. That night thought, it was driven into me like a silver stake, that I have those feelings still, and may yet have those feelings for her for long long time.
I can only wish her the same thing I've sincerely wished my two newlywed friends: Live a long, fruitful and happy life, and may your special someone, present or future, give you the happiness you deserve.
Ed: This is one of the rare posts from someone else whom I've been able to really identify with. I hope the writer of the post above can soon recover from his hurt, and find happiness whether with the girl he wrote about in his blog, or with someone new.
posted by ekkie at 5:09 am
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