22 Lonely Valentine's Day

Since I passed 20, the topics for dinner conversations have got a little change in my family— my grades gradually lost its first priority and at last disappeared from the list and meanwhile, a new issue was added. My parents started to be keen on prying love stories between young people. My mum’s favorites are those girls in her office while my dad never leaves his students alone. I know what kind of game they are playing but I will not pick up the cue, I will not continue the conversation by saying ‘Hey, you want to meet my girl friend?’ In fact, ‘will’ is not the right word here; ‘cannot’ may be more precise. I am 22 years old and I’ve never had a single girl friend (and more unfortunately, I am not even a gay).

I know this is incredible and I won’t waste time to exclude any doubt against it because I am not applying for a record and moreover, it is not something one should be proud of.

I don’t know what is wrong with me. Actually, I adore beautiful girls-- their smooth hairs reflecting dim light, giving out an attractive fragrance of the shampoo they use; their curves showing the greatness of the nature and carrying a pride of their prime age; their voice with a flirting magic filling the air with soft desires and of course their eyes, some are as innocent as infant’s and some are charming, inquiring and even a slightest flickering will shock any man’s fragile nerves. But the fact is, my next kiss will still be my first; my virginity is still waiting for being taken.

I did have a crush on somebody, many times. However, most times, the crush was never interpreted into words but remained a feeling rotting in the bottom of my heart; and even if I prepared an I-like-you ‘speech’, I only spoke it to mirrors and wrote it in my diary. I don’t know why the expression of true emotions is so hard for me, I don’t know why I can’t do it without feeling shameful, without worrying about being refused, without giving up at last step. Why?

I haven’t realized I am such a pessimist. Ah, maybe my physical condition may explain everything. There’s nothing special about me except I am very short. 1.6 meters now is not enough for girls in China, but that is the point I stopped growing. When I was at an age still early for love stuff, my height didn’t bring me too much trouble, just some trivial problems: I could rarely grab the rebound in a basketball match, in the library I didn't even bother to take a look at the books kept on the top shelves or I wouldn’t obtain any psychological advantage in a fight with my peers.

And later, when I entered into adolescence, everything began to change and my little cozy world started to shatter. I spent more and more time standing before a mirror, messing with hairs, trying to invent a cool pose and discovering my fatal weakness. School uniforms looked perfectly on my classmates but on me… My legs are nearly as short as my body, remember the Golden Section, so forget about the uniforms, forget about any garments, cloths, trousers, jeans that will look good even on the lifeless plastic models.

You may say appearance is not the most important thing while intelligence, humor, righteousness may serve more. You’re such a liar with a pretty face trying to be modest while enjoying your little advantage; you’re a hypocrite who on one hand puts inner beauty first and on the other hand judges opposite sex on the first sight only by their bodies; you are drugged by your hormone, drown in the visual fantasy, called to the lust inherited from ancient animals, ignorant of the weak voice of your sense and any code of conduct. It is unfair that a simple sentence spoke out of a sexy lips embedded in a handsome face located on a prince-like structure would please a girl more than the constant care provided by a fool who believes in the inner beauty. To some extent, this goes to everyone including me. Everybody is phony.

Another Valentine’s Day. On this day, I dare not wander on the streets because too much roses, too much kisses will hurt my poor inferiority ego. On this day, I am contemplating, I am dreaming, I am waiting for my angel to show me the brightest smile, to hold me in her warm embrace, to correct my misunderstanding of love, to save me from my wrong philosophy toward life.