Damaged, Beyond Repair?

I am at that stage in life where you can pleasantly discuss the prospect of getting married with your parents. It is a sweet phase to be in. The subjects to talk about are fresh and far away from regular chit-chat. It was all fun and games for me until my dad asked, "Give me a list of things you would want in a future husband."

To my surprise, I did not have a list. For someone who even has a list of things to do over the weekend, this was a little startling. I didn't know what to say, so I jokingly replied, "Idk! Maybe who replies to my texts in max 2 business days." But was I kidding? If yes, then who was I kidding?

I remember having a list as a teenager, obsessing over it with my girlies back when I was sweet 16. However, over the years, life worked out to be such a bitch that expecting a text back in 2 days is what I think is luxury.

When did life go from having a 10-pointer checklist for a prince charming to a series of traumatic experiences that rendered me incapable of coming up with a better answer? When did I get damaged beyond repair? Have I given up on the notion of having a decent life partner? Now I am not saying that I am settling for this bare minimum, but the idea that this was my answer at the instant was absurd.

I have always been the one to talk about not giving up on love. Because it is just too beautiful to give up on. And yet, I can't help but wonder if I am delusional to believe in it even after whatever has lead me here.

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