I met my match 2 years ago, and it wasn't fun.

It was riddled with hot and cold moods and intimate nights that became mornings with a stranger.

He first kissed me at 3 am on a random week night.
"Are you attracted to me?" he asked I nodded.

Here, I was setting a standard for the next few months. One in which he was verbose, always ready to talk about hurried, flimsy emotions, and I would weigh my feelings with shrugs, nods and hugs.

I saw him wholly the minute he let his guard down, but I can't say my guard is completely down yet. He's WAS the quintessential bad boy; friends would ask me if I was going to continuously be pulled into his charming manipulations, and I would experience a range of urgent waves of feelings when it came to him : unpredictable and strong.

He's the person they will tell you to stay away from. He hurts unintentionally, which is the worst kind, because you'll always want to give him another chance. He won't even realise how much he puts you through. He will frustrate you and melt you at the same time,

Soon enough, something magical happened. I let him go. I won't flower this for the purpose of prose. I simply let him go. Hard, stone, truth.

And then, earlier this year, I met him again. This time, he had shards of all of the baggage, but so did I. I won't talk about electricity, chemistry and the inability to not be intimate with a person, because we all know about those wonderful things. I'll tell you what happens after. Magic. And when you see unadulterated magic, you pull your faith into it and mash it together until you can't tell the two apart.

When you mix magic, love, faith and patience, you get him and I. We're quite traditional now; a typical couple (he probably doesn't read this, so phew). For him, the last unsuccessful time we tried to shack up is a big, un-inspirational blur, but for me it's a life lesson. One that taught me to dream, but to not be delusional, to love, but yourself first. Only then can you love someone else for their whole. Cliches are true :)

The other night, I was stressing about a work deadline, which meant I was rambling.

"I have faith that you'll finish it even one night before, baby" -- his words weren't dismissive, but loving and straddled with faith.

And I thought to myself, everybody deserve this. Every single person deserves to fall hook, line and sinker in love with someone and have them fall back in love with YOU with equal intensity. This is my way of saying: hold on, or out, until you find it. It's worth it, even for a short duration. It's like your first hallucinogen experience (or for those who don't do drugs, let's say your first spiritual experience) -- it changes you, but more importantly, it brings you closer to yourself.

It was an afternoon text.

She had a bit of a post-lunch shut-eye, and when she snapped out of it on her desk, he was on her mind.

I suddenly feel very aroused by you. 

He didn't respond immediately to her text, but they met later in the evening with a bunch of friends.

They caught a moment alone, and he kissed her.

"Did you really feel aroused by me earlier?" he smirks.

"Who else do you think would arouse me?"

"Really?"

"Why are you so surprised?"

"I don't know this is new territory for me," he says.

"What is, me being sexually aroused by you?"

He nods.

She turns. Just before she leaves, she says, "I must be doing something wrong."

We're just a box of giddy souvenirs, waiting for the big reveal with bated breath.
We run our fingers through the nothings, to create patterns with our fickle souls.
We're impulsive.
We're all the kisses put together; lips glued, heart-beat triple and the chance of love kept safely at the climax.

When you hold my hand, I urge you to grasp my whole. Take me, surely you can take me.
Remix me to fit your jigsaw puzzles.
Smell the urgency with which I look into you.
Blare the silences, keep your fears mellow.

We're new, old, everything and nothing.
Crash into me. I'm waiting. 

You can close the palm of your hands and still not have any clarity. I type these self-assuring, pieces of advise to myself, being fully aware of how easily I fall in and out of love. You can own me with one glance, and lose me with something as silly as a wink smiley. (If there's anything that correctly personifies the concept of being unnecessarily amorous, it's the wink smiley, but I digress).

I'm complex, he said. I fell out of love with him, too. And yet, I cannot wrap my fingers around the loss of a toxic presence.

2014 has been great. Some years, you know by January itself that it is going to be great. I've made the right decisions; letting go of people who were only contributing negatively to my life, and focusing on things that mattered (however relative that may sound)

I also understood that saying “I'm not judgmental” doesn't add up to really practicing it at every step of the way. Sometimes you can't help your opinions, and more than striving to be non-judgmental, it's far more important to listen to your inner self, I've learnt.

Even if that means not having a clue about where you're headed. Asking the right questions, and turning the right things down at the moment is a good enough momentum.

Because on a sun-kissed February afternoon, when I saw my reflection in a mirror passing by, I saw a mix of flaws and beauty. It was a concoction I wasn't worried about.

Acceptance can be your greatest virtue.