Saturday, March 26, 2011

Shall I Compare Thee...

"Hmm... her pancakes are much better than yours." No matter how secure we are with our present, one cannot help but think about what used to be. It's just how we are programmed. Whether we hear a song or we pass by somewhere, we suddenly remember something, no matter how obscure it is.

Comparison. This is something that I strongly believe should be included in the seven capital sins of, for the lack of a better word, love. Comparison will never ever bring you peace. It just strengthens that proverbial what-if and reminds you how foolishly happy you once was. Tell me thinking about how she used to save all the orange gummi bears for you or request for extra butter for your popcorn when you know she's figure-conscious does not make you go hmm, and smile a little. Not that the current one is a disappointment. Oh, no. She's a gymnast and takes up yoga classes. You stock up on your Red Bulls and Gatorades and Alaxan whenever she sleeps over. But like I said, the littlest and stupidest things triggers that comparison.

Here's the fun part. The harder you try to not compare, the more you do. You just gotta love the irony. But it really is not healthy. How do you think your current will feel when he or she finds out you were thinking about someone/thing else when he or she something for you and it did not meet your expectations? How would you feel if you fail to meet your girlfriend's expectations? I'm not saying you should divert all your energy on eliminating this destructive trait. You can't. It is futile to resist. But what one must do is absorb, smile then think about the reason why that thought is only a memory, and focus on what is making you happy this very moment. Provided you are happy. If you're just reminded about something without your partner triggering it, then it's not comparison. You're just sad.

This all came out of nowhere. Well, actually, a friend and I were talking about some almost-perfect-dork finally committing. But he committed to chick who is not-so-perfect. "Tagumpay," as I would like to call it. Emphasis on the almost-perfect trait of the dork. Now, my friend is accusing me of comparing that chick to our chick who has this thing for almost-perfect-dork. I, of course, denied because I really wasn't. It is not in my nature to compare, except maybe for prices. But off the record, if ever, that not-so-perfect chick is going to eat our chick for breakfast. (And what an inappropriate yet awesome image that is.)

Regardless of how not-so-perfect chick will destroy our chick in a heartbeat, if I were in almost-perfect-dork's expensive shoes, I'd choose ours without thinking twice. But that's just me, the Foolish Party God. (--,)


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