A farmhouse in France

There is an old man who runs a little shop by my work. He’s trained in France and had lived in France for a long time. They make fresh baguette every morning and by noon they are done making them. I go and get coffee every morning from him. It’s the best $2 I can ever spend. I start to talk to him about France, about a stone farmhouse I am about to buy. It’s beautiful there, with fruit trees and landscaped lawn in an ancient town that has everything one may need. Daily fresh bread, cheese, vegetables. I don’t speak a word of French but I can learn. I get by because I’m Asian and they respect the fact I speak English, the universal third language.

When I embarked on my journey to find love, I found instead lies. I found that I was quite easily taken advantage of. I was played and I had high hopes for things that meant absolutely nothing, I had thought that I could be loved back. Those were the mistakes even the most intelligent people make. I have seen it over and over again.

But I think the difference is that each time the rebound period is quicker. I had known deep inside I meant very little to the person who allegedly claimed that he loved me. I knew because all along, he lied through his teeth and pretended that he loved me to lure me in. There was no sincerity, there was never any truth to anything he said. But more importantly, he was heartless, thoughtless and careless. Any mature adult would have approached it in a different manner. Any adult would have said, I know you are hurt, I know that it did not work out. I know because I felt your pain. Any adult would have treated this differently. Not disappeared as if he never existed or as if I never existed. Love is not something that I freely gave out. I gave to him because I truly loved him. I know in my world, it only happened once or twice before him. Why did I choose him is a better question but I think it’s best unanswered. I knew the answer. He caught me at a peculiar moment of my life. I let my guard down.  He really did not care so much about me, but he did what he could to lure me in and kept me there, it was more or a less a cat and mouse game. But then, one day, one day I didn’t want to play anymore.

I am back at being as myself. Being myself is pretty cool. I am liked by many and loved by many. I don’t have to lie to anyone any more. I’m happy again.

In that regard, perhaps I am meant to leave this relationship. I’m happy again. I’m happy that I’m me again. I’m happy that he can no longer hurt me, he can no longer make me feel sad, watched, observed, and he can no longer demand me to be his without reciprocation. He can no longer control my emotions and make me feel that I was not worthy of his time or attention. He can no longer put me down.

And for that, I’m thankful. I’m thankful he came into my life. He taught me what not to look for in a man. He taught me how to move on without losing my soul.

The old man and I talk about homes in France. I have found it. A beautiful renovated stone farm house with five bedrooms, 10,000 square feet space, 1700 square feet living space, fruit trees and close to Paris. I’m going to be fine. You see. I have to be fine. I’m me again.