I’ve often been asked, what do I look for in a partner.

It’s a valid question, and one that I think about quite a lot too.

I honestly think that for me, it’s about acceptance.

What I hope to have in a potential partner is someone who is willing to accept me as I am, but also, someone who makes me want to be a better person, for them.

If that person is okay with me, then I will try my very best to do the same for them.

I am far from a perfect person. I have my issues definitely. But nobody’s perfect, so it’s not realistic to expect any potential partner to be either.

In the same way, there’s no ‘perfect’ relationship. Every successful relationship, I feel, is about acceptance, compromise, and support.

I think of the wedding vows, “In sickness and in health, for better or for worse, till death do us part”

I know it’s very cliche, but that’s kinda what I hope for.

(The below part is very personal)

I look to my parents. They don’t have a perfect relationship. They have had some huge arguments over the years. Yet they’re still together, for I think about 40 years now. Because they’ve learnt to give and take, they’ve learned to compromise, they’ve learnt to live with each other.

And then I look to some other relationships around me, how they’ve crumbled so quickly. Like my brother, who couldn’t keep his temper in check, and bailed from his marriage at the slightest sign of trouble.

Sadly, it’s not the only one I’ve seen around me.

It’s called a partnership for a reason. I feel like, once you’ve decided to commit your future to someone, you work together, to build your lives together. Again, nobody’s perfect, but you work things out together, try to iron out the flaws, and accept each other’s imperfections.

You also support each other, be there for each other, in good times and bad.

Building a long term relationship is not easy. Nobody said it is, especially if you expect to spend many years, or even the rest of your lives, together.

But it requires both parties to make an effort. It cannot just be one way.

It’s the reason why I’m open and honest about my thoughts and beliefs, because I think it’s only fair for people to know what they’re getting in to.

But I feel like it’s getting really hard to form a serious relationship in a world that’s descending into selfishness and dishonesty. It’s ironic that expecting honesty and realism is starting to appear idealistic.

I dunno. I hope it’s not too much to ask, but sometimes I feel like it is.

Solace in Isolation

It feels like the end of the world.

I will admit to this right now, I’m not exactly coping well with current situation. As it is I’m already struggling with own my personal issues, but this feels like a whole lot of added stresses to deal with, and it just feels…overwhelming, you know?

I will go right into it. I am scared. I am scared of this disease. I am scared of what could happen. But most importantly, I am scared of my loved ones because they are more vulnerable than me. And I am simply not ready to lose them. Not right now.

Between this deadly virus, and my dad being sick and requiring major surgery (complicated story), it has taken a tremendous toll on my family in recent times. And for me personally, it’s just been incredibly, incredibly stressful. It just feels like everything is collapsing around me.

I’m an introvert by nature. I don’t tend to share my personal stuff with the whole world. I generally only tell these things to a select few people whom I can trust.

But even that feels like an impossibility now, what with required social distancing meaning that I have to avoid personal contact.

It’s really, really hard. Really.

I’m trying my best to keep going, because life has to go on. I still have to work. But sometimes I wonder how much more I can take before it just goes all to pieces.

Here’s the thing though: Being alone is also a form of coping mechanism for me. It allows me to do things I wouldn’t normally do in front of people. Express emotions that I won’t usually display. I don’t have to pretend to be strong, just to preserve the act of being normal, when things are not.

There’s something astonishingly peaceful about going out for a drive, alone, to the most deserted, isolated spots you can find. With nobody around you for miles and miles.

It gives you time to be alone, to think, or not think. To just take in the world, and escape from it at the same time.

You feel…far far away from all your troubles, your worries. In that moment, however long you want it to be, everything feels so distant. And you feel, just in that moment, that things are OK, at least where you are at that point in time.

Driving, to me, can be a form of escapism, away from the real world. The car is my sanctuary, it shields me from the nasty world outside. It accords me freedom, to go where I want, do what I want.

And in a world where things feel increasingly out of control, it’s an incredibly cathartic feeling.

I’m not OK, not by any means right now. But at least, I think, going out on a peaceful, quiet drive to the middle of nowhere is a small way that can help me preserve my sanity a bit.