Better kind of different

I recently watched Dakota Skye, an indie movie in which the protagonist has the ability to extract the truth from the lies people say. Like much of the movies I’ve seen lately, I enjoyed it more than I had anticipated. At the end of the film, she states the following quote which really struck a chord with me.

“Predictable doesn’t always mean boring. Lust doesn’t always mean love. Near doesn’t always mean close. New doesn’t always mean exciting. Different doesn’t always mean better. Far doesn’t always mean distant. Knowing everything doesn’t make you wise. Knowing the truth doesn’t make you superior. Knowing your problem doesn’t solve It. Sitting between your past and your future doesn’t mean you’re in the present.”

For quite sometime now, I’ve been on a consistent dating streak with guys I know I have no future with. I enter the game knowing the probable outcome, but the prospect of surprise keeps me coming back. It seems foolish and maybe I’m a masochist. Maybe I’m an optimist, but there’s a small part of me that wants to be proven wrong. After being around copious male friends, I knew the moves in the playbook yet it didn’t make me any wiser to avoiding the trap. So I go on dates which after a short amount of time, result to awkward disasters. Every date is unique in its own way; every guy has a different set of quirks that delineates him from the rest. I still get nerves for every first date, all the “what if’s” come surging in minutes as he approaches the door. In all fairness, not all the guys from my past have been “bad guys,” but they were just wrong for me and I knew it.

To break the vicious cycle I tried a new approach. I went against my usual patterns and went with a guy different from everyone before. Unlike the ones before, he was more timid and reserved. I was intellectually attracted to him. It gave me hope that he very well may be the guy to defy my expectations. Sparing the minute details, he was just like the rest hiding under a facade. In all honesty, I was disappointed. I thought that going for a different type of guy would land me a good guy.

Talking to my housemate about it elucidated the wrongs that I’ve committed. Just because I was channeling a new route on dating doesn’t imply that it’s the right one. Different doesn’t always mean better. Underlying the differences in the guys prior, they’ve all just wanted one thing. I was focusing on the one thing new and exciting about the latest guy, that I failed to see the similar patterns of my past. My housemate compared my track record to Mexican beverages. He said that I kept going for the same awful tamarind drink because that’s what I was used to. Upon realizing that there were other options available, I started tapping into the pineapple drink-it was different, a different kind of awful. He said that I knowingly try every other option available just because it poses a new and exciting taste but it eventually leads to disappointment. The horchata, “the nectar of the gods” as he lovingly refers to it, is right around the corner waiting to be tapped yet I turn a blind eye to it.

Great men exist. Like the horchata, they might be right around the corner waiting to be recognized and appreciated. After a long run of casual flings, I’ve grown tired of the silly games, the awful pick-up lines, and the over used excuses. Its senseless to settle for lust posing as love. As I move on after my last quarter in college, I’m also concluding my chapter of same difference- different faces with the same underlying desires. Who knows what the future hold for me, but I’m tired of different, I’m ready for better.

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