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Greed? Can one grow too greedy that they turn weary when they can no longer bask in bliss, in the afterglow of love?

“Has he asked yet?” “Are you two official?” The usual questions file in. Yet it feels completely different this time around. This time around, I am completely unfazed. Not obsessing it or grovelling over the label or timeline.


When social norms of a relationship are not what’s guiding or binding us together, what is?


Choice.

In my last relationship, I’ve fervently tried to get it labelled like how they stick “FRAGILE” over boxes containing your finest china except mine would read “EXCLUSIVE”.


“So what are we?”, I would whine. “You don’t want a girlfriend?”, a question I would sneak into our late night conversations. This recollection makes me cringe, in particularly, the replies. “Yes, definitely...” “in time...” “just that this is missing...” “that is missing...” - basically a million and one things I need to work on to be crowned, girlfriend.


“Shit?! What’s wrong with me?“ “What should I change to seal his ass?“ “Oh shit, he thinks I’m not empathetic?” “Jiejie, how should I reply to his messages to sound more empathetic?” “Would this skirt make him like me more?“ How do I become this XYZVJEIBFUNRYFUN girl so he would finally call me his girlfriend?


When it finally ended, the reverie didn’t. Not for awhile. Oddly when I finally figured it out, I was reaffirmed by his very own words, in person, about another woman after me. “She’s amazing and all but she was pushing me for more. I am not ready. She should give me more time right?”


Anyway, I wouldn’t have it any other way for I have learnt. I’ve learnt, we shouldn’t have to claw our way to exclusiveness or mould ourselves to fit into their lives - like Cinderella’s step sisters, forcing their feet into the glass slipper to marry the Prince.


We are, our fairy god mothers.

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