Are you real?

He is so cute, so exactly like the image of what you think a boyfriend should be when you are nine or ten years old—what you think your own boyfriend will be, your birthright—that he breaks your heart a little. She hardly knows him (maybe he isn’t that great), but it’s still unfair that only some girls grow up to get boys like this.

-Hannah Gavener from The Man of my Dreams by Curtis Sittenfeld

Someone asked me in my Forsmpring which book last made me cry. I recently finished Bridget Jones, yes the mother of all modern chic lit, and did not enjoy it at all. I did not relate to Bridget as I expected I would, I did not cry by the end of novel as I thought I would. Maybe it’s because although like Bridget I am also sick of being single and just like her I also rant nonstop about how alone I feel, she was very much cynic. And if you’re someone who knows me even from afar, that is one thing I will never ever become. If Harry Potter had a counterpoint in the world of Hopeless Romantics, it would probably be me.

So, no. Bridget Jones wasn’t the last book to make me cry. It was The Man of my Dreams.

I bought the book in Booksale for only P50. I remember screaming with excitement the moment I saw it. I’ve been eyeing on the one and only copy of it at National Bookstore and when I finally decided to buy this copy, I was told that somebody went ahead of me already. Frustrated, I went home to Cebu one weekend and I hurriedly went to Fully Booked only to find out that there were no more copies available as well. I asked my tita from the US if she could send me a copy of it and then she kept sending me books that were anything but the one I want. Eventually, I let it go. So anyway, despite the little girl who was beside me, almost teary-eyed from the fright of my sight screaming over a book, I continued with my enthusiasm. The book was meant for me, after all.

I spent one Saturday reading this book, stopping only to highlight my favorite parts. You know the feeling when you get so attached to something you’ve been reading or watching that you feel like it wasn’t just a book or a movie or a TV Show? You feel as if it was your very own life right there printed on pages of paper or there shrunk to fit the box of entertainment. So what if that something turns out to have a bad ending? Or at least, an ending that you don’t like?

I didn’t like the ending of the Man of my Dreams. Simply because Hannah, the heroine of the story, did not end up with, well, the Man of her Dreams. Oh come on, stop looking at me like that. I’m pretty predictable when it comes to things like this. Heehee. ;)

I mean, of course I’d love for her to get what she wants. But considering that she didn’t, and considering how attached I was to the story, it made me kind of fear what my own life’s ending would be like. I’ve been living with the idea that although things are always tough for me right now, in the end I’d still get the Happy Ending I rightfully deserve. And my dream Happy Ending is something that comes straight out of a Fairy Tale book.

But what if Fairy Tales—Happy Endings—really are just some bullshark that Walt Disney purposely fed on girls like me, so that we would be susceptible enough for the society to use up until we’re all dull and filthy?

What if The Man of my Dreams never does exist? Frankly, what I fear most about my future relationships is that I might engage into them with guys whom I’m just settling for. I fear that because of my very high expectations, I will never be contented enough to realize that I have found The One. I probably will keep comparing these guys to my poster guy and think how much they’re not qualified enough to live up to my expectations. They’re always going to be too immature, too serious, too lazy, too hardworking, too short, too tall. Now, I wouldn’t want that to happen because that’s really unfair for them who I’m sure are all going to be amazing.

Oh gawd. I need intervention. :(