Hope

(A poem by Emily Jane Brontë)

HOPE was but a timid friend;

She sat without the grated den,

Watching how my fate would tend,

Even as selfish-hearted men. 

Four years ago, I met someone who stirred something in my heart. I wasn't fully recovered from a heartache at the moment, and there was never anyone who was capable of stirring anything inside of me, until he came. We spent time together for a short 3 days, and then he left me.

She was cruel in her fear;

Through the bars, one dreary day,

I looked out to see her there,

And she turned her face away! 

After he's gone, my mind started wondering, and asking questions. There's something about him that makes me feel again. But then I was too scared to want to know more. So I waited, and watched over him from a distance. In the meantime, hope quietly built a castle in my soul. 

Like a false guard, false watch keeping,

Still, in strife, she whispered peace;

She would sing while I was weeping;

If I listened, she would cease. 

Six months after he left, I wrote a list of 100 things I want in a man. I didn't know him that much, but the list was probably things I expect to have from him. I kept that list, and waited. One, two, three, four years have passed. Hope grew stronger. 

False she was, and unrelenting;

When my last joys strewed the ground,

Even Sorrow saw, repenting,

Those sad relics scattered round; 

Until one day life handed me over the chance to see him again. This time I got to spend more time with him, to know him better, and to be assured that the four-years-waiting was worthwhile. He fulfils 99 items on my list, and with divine intervention, he'll match all 100. So I tell him how I feel, and wait some more. 

Hope, whose whisper would have given

Balm to all my frenzied pain,

Stretched her wings, and soared to heaven,

Went, and ne'er returned again ! 

I can't choose the one I love. I just do. But so can't he. And now, since hope has abandoned me, I will hang on to prayer. It changes things, so I've heard. It helps you grant your wish. People often remind me to be careful with what I wish for, but I won't be scared. Not after all this. I've waited for him for four years, and I will not give up now.

The Science of Flirting

"I'm a terrible flirt."

Said the man I've been waiting for, who managed to occupy my mind the whole time since I first met him four years ago, although I met him very, very briefly.

And he is. I can't deny it because it's a fact.

And I hate it, with all my heart. We were talking and having lunch in my favourite cafe, and all of a sudden I lost my appetite. He was standing and getting a picture of the cafe and he managed to flirt with a girl he saw nearby. And every time he speaks a little too nicely with a waitress or throws a more-than-usual appreciative glance at someone, something inside me dies a little.

I don't blame men in particular for flirting. Women, we, do flirt, too. Although, however, funnily, I don't have any female friends around me who is a terrible flirt. I think woman only flirts when they really want something to happen. That can be either a one-night stand or a real relationship, but I don't know any woman who flirts just because they enjoy the process, or because it makes them feel good about themselves.

So, I don't know why men flirt. And I seriously can't understand why some men are a natural born flirt. It's probably hormonal, but it doesn't make it forgiveable. God grants them brain who are capable of thinking and controlling their behaviour, so it doesn't make it acceptable.

And flirting can be fatal to relationship, both potential or ongoing. When one side flirts, it hurts the other side, because it makes them think that they're not good enough. It makes them feel insecure. And it can erode whatever affectionate feeling they have.