The Wedding (The Invitation Part II)

The day was hot.
The trip to the venue was horrid.
Traffic Jam. Sunny. Hot, I can’t even feel the Air Con. Good thing I had my mom with me to talk endlessly about anything she found worth mentioning (which was everything). For once, I was actually glad she didn’t stop talking.

The event was gonna be the end to a ghastly week. It would hopefully answer my endless questions about how I really felt about the situation. How I really felt about him getting married.

Him. The love of my life.

For the past week, my feeling has been changing back and forth about this. One minute, I thought ‘I am all right. I never really love him that much anyways’, while other times –most of the time-, I was just a wreck about this, I kept on thinking that this is really the end of my love life. I will never find anyone that could fit me the way he is. Used to be. Has always been. And will always be.

Growing up I always have a clear idea of the type of a man that will fit me in every thing. That is perfect for me.

He would be quiet because I am a riot.
He would be funny because I like to laugh.
He would be a prankster because I was born to joke around.
He would be smart because I like to discuss about many things.
He would be sensitive because I also like to cry.
He would be nice looking (but not great looking) because I tend to be insecure.
He would not be perfect because I am not perfect.

And it would be exhausting to look for a perfect guy, don’t you think?
And it would be intimidating to be with a perfect guy, don’t you think?
I think so.

I met this prankster, whom I called G, in 2001 when I was taking my masters degree. He said so many funny things in the class that I knew instantly we were gonna be bestfriends. We are. During those master years, I could count on him on anything. From the problems in class to things in life. He even knew how to handle me when I was pissed with people, by sitting next to me and listened to all my whining. He gave me good advices that actually worked for all those problems.

I did the same thing for him. Or at least, I tried.

He had a girlfriend. Not only that, he was also faithful.
The bad thing was, faithful was the thing that attracts me to him.
Has it become my pattern? To fall for someone that I can’t have?
Am I really afraid of rejection that I tend to go after those whom I know will reject me?
I don’t know. A friend told me that I am probably a masochist. Am I?

I am not.
I genuinely love this guy.
I like him.
With all my head and heart.
Because he made me smile, laugh, helped me through many of my ups and downs, and most importantly, he gave me hope that there are in fact, a good man in this world.

Face it, you don’t see many good guys anymore. The ones who kept their words, the ones who care for your feelings, the ones who are sweets, the ones who pray because he loves GOD, the ones who are down-to-earth nice.

That’s why I stick to him. I believe that I would be able to change the way he saw me. One day it happened. We were just studying with 2 other guys from the class when one of the guys mentioned something about friendship between opposite genders. Both guys and I agreed that it could happen, based on experience. But G disagreed immediately, he said that it is impossible to happen. I was stunned. What did he think of me all this time?

The guys instantly pointing his friendship with me to make their point. And he said, ‘I was not saying that it’s impossible like it won’t ever happen, some will work, but it will never be as pure as if you’re bestfriends with the same sex, because with opposite sex, you’ll have all this feeling as well.’

I was more stunned by this statement. Then one of the guys answered again,’That means you have all these feelings for K then?’

‘Yes.’ He said promptly. A word that rocked me. I looked calm and even, laughed a bit. But I felt like jumping. I made my own conclusion that day. If he wasn’t with his girlfriend, he would go for me. It’s the best rejection ever. Since I knew he wouldn’t ever break up with his girlfriend, I felt safe. It’s not me, it’s the situation.

Time went by. What do we know? Last year, he asked me to lunch. As I sat in front of him -unaware what he was about to say-, I told him about my life recently. As I became comfortable, I noticed that he looked sadder, paler, his smile felt bitter, oh my, what happened to him, I thought. Then he said,’I broke up with A.’

What? Who broke up with whom? You wouldn’t do it in million years.
I didn’t. She did. She found another guy.
What? How come?
I don’t know K. She found another guy. I am devastated.

He was.
At that time, the only thing that went through my mind was I hate seeing him like this. How he could be happy again? Could he be happy again? As bestfriend, could I help him be happy again?
I was not happy at all. I was also sad, went pale, and bitter.
I should be happy, but I wasn’t. I remembered I cried for him. I remembered I was sad for him for days. But what I remembered the most was I hate, HATE, seeing him like that.

Eventually, he was happy again. At least in front of me. He laughed again. At least when he was with me. He joked around again. He was back. He was even better with the religion stuffs. But, he’s more serious about other things. Even that never bothers me.

After a while, he told me he wanted to get married. He needed someone. To share. To hold. To simply be with him.

I am that person. I am. I am.
I couldn’t see him with anyone else but me.
Oh, I am that person.

So, I asked him to lunch.
I told him how I felt, which I am sure he knows.
I told him that he’s the only person that would be good for me.
I told him that I am the only person who could make him happy.

I sounded desperate. I didn’t, but if I did, I didn’t care. I still don’t.
I just wanted him to know. I took all chances. All risks.
I wanted him to know what I felt.
I didn’t need any answers.
I just wanted him to know.

He just sat there with all his quietness.

Months later, he asked me to lunch.
That day, he told me that he’s been thinking about what I said. He told me he’s been praying to GOD to show him the best one to hold and to share in his life journey. The one who could make him happy and be happy with him. He has the answer.

It’s not me.
It’s someone else.
He looked uneasy and uncomfortable, as he said that.
I gave him the nicest smile and told him that it’s all right.

It was.

Until I held his wedding invitation in my hand.
It didn’t make me cry.
It didn’t make me fall on my knees.
It didn’t make me breakdwown.
It made me feel worse.

***

‘K, we’re here.’ My mom gently held my hand.
I took a big long breath.
This is it. I got see the woman who will be the perfect person for my perfect person.

As I stepped into the building, as I went up the elevator, as I signed the guest book, as I received the small gifts from the receptionist girl, as I said hi to my best friend, R, who were also there, as I entered the ballroom, I held my breath and tears. I held R’s hands tightly. ‘Hold me.’

From the door, I could see him there. I could see his perfect person. I could see his smile. I could see him laughing. I could see that he’s happy. Again.

I could still feel my sadness. I could still feel the knot in my heart. I could still cry. I could still break down.

But as I approached him, as I shook his hand to congratulate him, as I shook his wife’s hand, as I watched his smile for the closeness, I felt happy for the first time since he told me that it’s not me.

Happy because love is not about making ourselves happy, it’s about making the ones you love happy. And he’s happy. So, I am happy.

And it’s enough.
Because just around the corner, I believe I will find another perfect person for me. If not, I still have R’s (and my other loved ones’) hand to keep me strong and of course, HAPPY.

-to G and L, have a wonderful happy journey-

:to Retti, Ricky, Ika, Citra, Leli, Mama, Mbak Venni – thanks for holding my hands: