Mr. Right-now-I-love-you-but-next-year-I-might-want-to-kill-you

Last night while I was having this conversation about marriage with one of my best friends, I remembered a movie, an old one, about a female teenager who believes that when you find Mr. right, it will be like a barcode scanner. Somewhere in your body, you’ll hear a ‘beep’. You’ll know it. You just know it. Somehow, the naive me, believe in it. Not necessarily the barcode, but the whole idea of Mr. Right and how it supposed to be when you finally found one.

Now I think those things are crap. Bullpoopy. I mean, come on, how are we supposed to know who’s right and who’s not based solely on feeling while we all know that feelings are easily changed. For example, once upon a time I’ve found someone I was incredibly in love with, head over heels, it felt perfect. I believe he was meant for me. The One. The Mr. Right I’ve been searching for. I can even almost heard the ‘beep’. One year later, the only feeling I felt for him was the feeling of punching an arse hole in the face. Or smacking him to walls. Mr. Right? It can’t be more wrong than that.

Then what’s this all about? How can we knew a person is destined to be our soulmate. The missing half? How?


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Somehow I have this feeling of drowning whoever it is invent the idea of The One to the bottom of the sea. I cursed every chick-flick movies who unconsiously implant this romantic idea of Mr. Right. Few very lucky people may have found it. The perfect person. But for the rest of us, I think the closest thing of right we can get is either Mr. Right Now or Mr. Right-in-front-of-your-eyes.

In other word, maybe, I’m not happy because I still hope that there’s actually a Mr. Right somewhere out there. So when someone I love (and love me) screw up or the numb feeling comes, instead of taking it with an open heart, I just assume he’s not the one. And again, instead of facing the problem together as a couple, I search for another person. The real Mr. Right. The never ending search.

Not everyone will find their Mr. Right. So maybe, instead of looking and hoping for an Edward, I should start looking for my Jacob. The one I need.