Virginity or virtue. What Really Defines Her?

09. You cannot love, I hate you

The fear of being left was real, a palpable dread that I clung to. The mantra that played on repeat in my mind was: "I’ll leave them, before they leave me." This wasn’t just a precaution—it was a reflection of my past. I had never truly been alone. There was always someone to talk to, someone to hold me, but no one ever stayed.

No one could handle the depth of love and emotion I had to offer. The separation from Abeer didn’t just mean losing him; it meant grappling with a newfound loneliness that felt foreign and terrifying. The phase of casual connections was over, and I was left yearning for something more substantial, something that promised a future rather than a fleeting moment.I wanted to wake up next to someone everyday, to kiss them good morning and share every detail of my day.

My fear of never being truly loved, despite how much I had given. My heart, though bruised, was ready to love again if someone would show a genuine desire to stay and be loyal.The reality hit hard: I had been giving love without receiving it in return.

Now, I craved a love that was steady, unwavering. I didn’t just want someone to love me; I needed a love that was enduring, one that wouldn’t vanish with the wind. My heart, despite its past wounds, was prepared to love back, but only if someone would offer the same in return. The thought of being alone again, of opening up only to be left behind, was too much to bear.I realised now that my earlier casual encounters were not enough. They were temporary, a stopgap for the deeper connection I truly sought. I was ready to embrace a love that was real and lasting, one that would fill the emptiness that lingered from the past.

I decided to reach out to Susheel, my long-distance friend who had harboured feelings for me over the years. The thought that he had waited for me for four years was overwhelming, but I resolved to let actions speak louder than words. After many discussions, we agreed to give our relationship a chance and plan a meeting. I was excited, but deep down, I knew the reasons I had kept distancing myself from him.Susheel wasn’t what I was looking for.

I wanted someone who would watch movies with me, understand the little things that made me happy, surprise me with thoughtful gestures, dedicate songs, and write heartfelt notes—not someone whose focus was solely on lust.Susheel was driven by desire, and his approach was something I struggled with. It was my mistake to give him hope and then back away. He was eager for multiple sleepovers, but I wasn’t ready for another temporary fling. When Susheel was set to meet me, the fear of being touched and left again left me breathless.His reaction was harsh. He scolded me and criticised my character, dismissing my concerns. I asked him if he truly loved me, he should control his urges and wait until we were committed.

His response was crushing: “Neysa, don’t tell me to control my urges and lust. I’m not sleeping with strangers.”That comment shattered my belief that we should reserve our private lives for those truly worth knowing. I had thought of him as a good friend, but he became a source of turmoil, impacting my peace and mental health.Susheel continued to taunt me about my choices over the years, reproaching me for not choosing him, not giving him a chance, and not sleeping with him. Despite his taunts, I tried to make him understand. I explained that maybe it was simply not meant to be, and we needed to accept that, despite our attempts, it wasn’t working out. We shouldn't repeat mistakes and allow accidental sexting to be mistaken for love.Our love languages were misaligned—mine was emotional availability, while his was consistently lustful.

What began with hopes of lifelong togetherness crumbled in just a week. The first three days were filled with magic and excitement, but the remaining four days were marred by arguments, disagreements, and chaos.In the end, it became clear that what I wanted wasn’t something Susheel could provide, and the emotional divide was too wide to bridge. Our relationship, which I had hoped would be different, ultimately revealed that our desires and expectations were misaligned, and it was time to let go.

Susheel cursed me with a venomous fury, "You cannot love, I hate you! I've always been just your casual fallback, the one you turn to when you're hurt and alone, only to discard me once you're better. No one will ever truly love you."

His words pierced me deeply, yet they failed to grasp the core of my turmoil. He couldn't see the emotional struggle I faced, the reason I continually chose to distance myself. Despite everything, I considered him a dear friend and wished for him to be part of my life, to share the bond we once had.

What seemed to haunt him was my inability to choose him over others, despite our years together. But perhaps it's not just about choices. Some things are beyond our control, and we must come to terms with the paths we're destined to follow.      

The curse he laid on me echoed in my mind day and night, gnawing at my self-worth and fueling my doubts about modern dating. I questioned every choice I made, and my decisions seemed to waver under the weight of his words. Despite my struggle, I came to realize that the fault lay not in the concept of modern dating itself, but in my misguided hope of rekindling something with him.

Even after his harsh words and bitter accusations, I pleaded with him to retract the curse. I couldn’t bear the thought of living under its shadow. But he refused, insisting that I should experience the same pain he felt, that I should cry as he did because of me.

The guilt weighed heavily on me, but deep down, I knew he wasn't the right person for me—neither for a fleeting affair nor for a meaningful relationship. His curses, though painful, were a harsh reminder of a truth I couldn’t ignore.       

That day, I decided to filter my contacts and embark on a new journey of self-discovery and healing. I would embrace my own company, dance like a madwoman to my favourite tunes, and immerse myself in personal growth and career ambitions. No one else's opinions or negativity would ever disturb my peace again. I was determined to reclaim my inner strength and find joy in the process of becoming the best version of myself.

Despite my resolve, the yearning for genuine love lingers deep within me. I’ve never truly experienced the affection I crave. My family sees me as merely a responsibility, friends have come and gone, often leaving me behind. I've always felt like someone's escape—just a friend and nothing more. I long for someone to love me wholly, to kiss me tenderly, to hold me tightly. This desire remains a poignant reminder of the love I’ve always wished for but never fully received.