Out of Context - Condensed

(Note: made this entry while listening to this: Feel free to listen as well)

As I sit here in front of my PC, my thoughts for the past week coalescing in my brain in an effort to even form mildly coherent thoughts, a disturbing thought suddenly crossed my mind.

I might have been broken.

Well, I should give a little context to this statement.

You see, for the past… well, all the years of me searching for a partner, I have been sort of playing a little bias. Sure I say that what I look for a girl is her personality, but let’s face it. Hormones are hormones. I do enjoy the aesthetic parts of women, even happily exchanging their empty personality just so I could have someone who is really nice to look at, in more than one occasion. 

Yes I did and I can’t deny it. It doesn’t matter that it’s unconscious, it is there and I should address it. 

As a regular guy, most of my searches for partners were, like I said, Aesthetically driven. It’s there, as most everyone (even women) know.

Now having gone through this week, there was this one significant event that really hit me. To summarize it, let’s just say that I found a story that’s unlike all other stories. You wouldn’t appreciate it if you were not in the right mindset, but if you are, well you’re in for a ride.

Going through that… Well, I can’t describe it. I guess it resonated against something deep inside me, like I said, something I have never noticed before. It sort of gave me a new perspective in life.

Let’s just get to the point.

Looks degrade. And I’m finding out that it doesn’t really matter. Getting someone based on their personal appearance is just plain stupid. It’s a.. what’s the word? Depreciating? yeah, that. Depreciating Asset. Sure, it’s nice. Real nice, to have. But now that I look back on my past relationships, I don’t recall their faces all that much.

What I do recall are the Sunday mornings, where I used to surprise her with a visit, carrying a bunch of flowers. Calling out her name, she coming out of her house fresh from the bed looking really disheveled but the smile that radiates from her sleepy face more than makes up for it. 

Those moments where we walk through the streets of some unnamed town, no idea what to do for the afternoon but just basking in the glow of each other’s company as we held hands and talk about small things in our life. Like how the math teacher was really sleepy today and didn’t bother to actually teach. Or how funny one of our friends were the other week when we were drunk.

The days where we would just sit around the cafeteria, hanging out and waiting for our friends to come out of their classes.

Those nights where we’re stuck in traffic as I take her home, her head on my shoulder and the warmth of her body as she fails to try and stay awake while I do my best to remain steadfast and chivalrous, my mind racing with thoughts that I should stay awake and protect her even as my body years for sleep.

Those kinds of moments are what I recall most from each of the girls I went out with. Not her face. Not her body. Those stolen moments of peace are what I really want from someone. It doesn’t matter if she doesn’t look like a model, or if she isn’t built like one. What matters is that we are able to enjoy those sweet intimate moments together and be comfortable with each other’s company.

I want to be able to find someone whom I could enjoy those things with. I want to be able to truly say I looked past her looks and liked her because who she is. Beauty is a depreciating asset. And if that’s the basis of your relationship, what happens when you run out?

That’s what I realized. That’s what I want.

That’s what finally clicked in my head. I’ve been spending the last few weeks trying to find out why I’m feeling this way. I should be glad I figured it out.

I guess this went on far longer than what I had planned. Sorry for taking your time. Thanks for reading.

-Ark 

*edit*

Why was this titled as Broken?

Well, to be honest, I was thinking about how guys normally run after girls (and vice versa) for their looks around my age. If I stop doing that, well, does that make me Broken?