Mr.Destined: A page from the open book of my heart.

Dear Mr. Destined,

I’ve been worrying about a quite a worrisome question recently. It’s quite worry worthy, I assure you. Here it is. The million dollar question. How can I recognize the face of love from the blurred faces of seven billion people? How can I recognize you? Will you be wearing a certain dress code for me to recognize you? Cow boy attire? A Certain sultana attire? The reincarnation of Charlie Chaplin attire? Will you be wearing that black jacket and the black suede shirt I love so much? Or will you be there wearing the polo shirt with no 8 on it? (You do know that eight is my lucky number, my signature charm. Apart from you that is). Will you have one of those ever so savored long noses, like that of Mr. Sherlock Holmes’? Or will you have one of those blunt noses, like that of no-one-I-can-remember-but-dislike-all-the-same? Your eyes? Blue? Brown? Dark brown? Hazel? Intelligent? Dreamy? Romantic? Insipid? The outline of your jaw? Double chin? Or worse triple chin? Your mouth? Do your ears stand out from the rest of the assets of your head? (I sincerely hope you do not have any of those defects because like it or not I have created this ‘perfect’ you in my heart, and naïve I may be, but I wish you will be doing justice for that image I’ve created. Ever so blind I am. I do understand.) Last, but not least, are you a wildly romantic soul as I’ve drawn you ever so artistically? (Please take it into notice that I have drawn your inner soul, your heart, and also will be drawing the structure of your brain when I get to learn more about it. I swear on my underwear.)

Mainly, and most importantly, the ever so grave question. Do you exist? Do you really? You’ve never written a return address apart from the secret envoy you send in the end of each month. (I apologize for the instances where I had to tip the envoy and send him back empty handed. Do excuse me. I am a busy soul. Please do not misunderstand me.  My heart is already stolen by you. Quit worrying now!)

In a narrow corner of my wildest dreams I had Zorro as my hero. Hercules, Robin Hood-and I’m not ashamed to say-even Tintin. And, not to forget, Captain Haddock. Is it even legal to like an overly fifty year sea captain with a constant foul vocabulary and an equally foul temper? (Is it even ethical to like two friends at the same time?) I had a special penchant for Vikings, pirates, strong Scottish lairds who would carry away a damsel and lavishly court her, rakish dukes, earls, and rogues. I loved Batman, Archie, Arnold in ‘Hey Arnold’, and many more cartoon characters who’ve starred as human males. The only cartoon character which I liked but did not develop a crush is SpongeBob. (It would have been pretty weird anyway if I started liking a yellow sponge with pants) My love for supernatural, paranormal characters had a proportional relationship with vampires, werewolves, faeries, and yes, mediator made me a helpless, hopeless fool with an abundant love for handsome ghosts. (Chic lit does have that effect. Feels like you are on Hallucinogens. Very bad for the nervous system). Sadly, my love for vampires decreased with such a rate, I would have just pushed a vampire out of my window to a garlic patch if he conjured in front of me. (I’m sorry Stephanie Meyer. It was all thanks to you. And yes Mr. Destined, you can take them safely off the list).  My liking for those nerdy scholars with the most romantic hearts, the sports jockeys who act as if they are jerks but on second glances are the sweetest sweethearts ever, The Boy-Next-Door, and The-Best-Friend’s-Brother-Who-Had-a-Secret-Crush-On-You-But-You-Didn’t-Realize-It-And-To-Make-Matters-More-Sweeter-You-Too-Had-a-Secret-Crush-On-Him For-Ages types were really appealing.

And as my sister said "If all my dreams were to come true, I would be married to more than 10 multi-cultured men!"  

I have to confess Mr. Destined that the more I saw those characters, the more I met them in my life, the more I developed crushes in my life, I have unknowingly –forgive me, but yes- unknowingly, created the ‘perfect’ you. If I would dream about a Prince Charming it was-with no second thoughts- you! My savior. My knight in shining armor. My Prince Charming. My super hero with the flowing cape and spider webs.  It was all you.  A bit of everyone I liked. And will be a bit of everyone who I will like.

Hello Mr.Destined! A funny story. Is it ironical or what? Frou Frou’s ‘holding out for a hero’ is the now playing song in my playlist.

Where have all the good men gone

And where are all the gods?

Where’s the street-wise Hercules

To fight the rising odds?

Isn’t there a white knight upon a fiery steed?

Late at night I toss and I turn and I dream of what I need.

ohhhhooohhhhhOOOOHHH…

I know it’s just an illusion we’ve fallen under. I know it’s just a delusion we’ve envisioned. But aren’t we all day-dreamers once in a while. We tend to cling on to them until we meet the ‘imperfect-perfect’ you.

You know what I wish for with my whole heart? I wish I could see a glimpse of you for a change. Maybe a teaser trailer, perhaps? You now those teasers people make with the sole intention of ‘teasing’ us. They wish. (I stand unbudgeted by all those teasing) But in regard to your case, I would whole heartedly encourage a small 30 second teaser. Thinking about it, just 5 seconds would be okay too. You know, a glimpse of a white gloved hand of yours, a bit of your nose, a close up of your eye lashes (with long, dark, dreamy, shadowy ones), your mouth. (Isn’t that what teasers do normally?) At least I would be getting a fairly fair idea about what I’m getting or what I’m bargaining with. Think about it. I wish you would do so. I would send a teaser to you as well. Starting with the tail of my not so small puppy.

I know. I know. All these notions are ridiculous and they are childish fantasies. I find myself immature but yet, aren’t we all immature in more than one way? Or is it what we yearn to be when we grow older each and every day? As Newton said “Every reaction has a similar and an opposite reaction.” That explains why we yearn to be younger, when we grow older. How we become younger at hearts when we mature physically. That explains everything Newton. Thank you so much.

I did say that all these notions are ridiculous. But are they? Aren’t they? It’s prevalent if you ask me. If we search into ourselves more thoroughly we would find our yearnings in the deepest spot in our soul. Farthest away from pollution and corruption. I would like to call it the spot of virginity. It is untouched, unscathed; it is where your real feelings hide themselves when you change according to the moving world.

I may have unintentionally conjured you up; I may have even gone to the extension of being unknowingly hypnotized by your-mesmerized by your –demeanor and prowess and might have unconsciously turned a blind eye on reality. But Mr. Destined, you should understand, I am only human.

I still have no idea whatsoever as to whom you are, or where you reside, or what you do. I have no inkling about anything in your life. My letters may have awakened you to some minuscule facts about my life, my ideologies, my stupidities, and my naiveties. Yours? I highly doubt so.

Let us get this straight. Perchance we meet tomorrow or maybe ten years from now, in a hallway, in a crowded street, near a wishing well, in a mountain hike, or maybe in a dentistry waiting room, I need you to recognize me. Here you go. I will be that girl with the dreamy eyed look in her eyes. Actually, on second thoughts do not recognize me in that manner.  If the world’s mystic ways treat me differently I may change.

 And how I will know you? “Raising on the thunder and rising with the heat, It’s gonna take a superman to sweep me off my feet.” That’s how I will know you.  You will be my superman.

Let’s just be assured I will find you and recognize you.

My six-foot-tall dreams, my strawberry dreams, my lavender dreams (NOT, I repeat NOT, Lavender weddings) my coffee dreams they all belong to you.

Adios Mr.Destined.

Let’s find love in a hopeless place.

Yours,

Hopelessly Romantic,

Malsha

Xx

P.S- Outside it’s raining cats and dogs. But funnily, I like it. It just reminds me that there’s a showery world outside, with dreams to explore and rainbows which appear after such draining rains. I just can’t wait till it rains on my dreams. Drenched dreams are the best. When you wring out the water, what’s left is the reality, which is best pursued in that form.

Isn’t it further ironic that Frou Frou just ended singing my exact thoughts and my dreams?  And these lines keep haunting my thoughts.

I need a hero

I’m holding out for a hero till the end of the night

He’s gotta be strong and he’s gotta be fast

And he’s gotta be fresh from the fight.

I need a hero

I’m holding out for a hero till the morning light

He’s gotta be strong and he’s gotta be soon

And he’s gotta be larger than life.

Malsha Walgamage©

 7 November 2011