LOVE LOST, LOVE FOUND AND EVERYTHING IN BETWEEN

I remember love in my 20s was fleeting. Many of us are familiar with that brief spark that flares, only to be snuffed out in darkness. Then I thought, how could I possibly love someone truly if I didn’t love myself? Like most young women, I was plagued with the usual insecurities. I wanted to be taller, prettier, the list goes on. 

Today, two decades later, I look at myself in the mirror, and I don’t want to look like anyone else but me. It is because I have come to love myself (again) and be grateful for the life I have. That very confidence has allowed me to love my partner better as I trust him completely. The mutual trust forms a great foundation to our happy and fulfilling relationship.

Now, don’t get me wrong. Self-love is one thing, but all relationships need work and that’s what I’ve learnt over the years. My husband, Rupert and I, for example, make it a point to go on dates every Friday, where we’ll head to one of the many amazing restaurants in Singapore, and chit￾chat over nice food and drinks. We both love good food! 

It’s important to share common interests and values, too. And, it’s equally important that you find your partner attractive. Now, what’s attractive to you? Is it a great smile, kind eyes or dimples? It’s hard to say, isn’t it? Well, it’s something you can’t always put your finger on, but you sort of know deep down.

Having said that, looks aren’t everything. You fall in love with someone because of who they are and their character. Marriages work better when two people are attracted to each other in many ways, and they work together to keep the spark.

I knew Rupert was the one when I observed his actions and how he treats everyone around him. He’s decent, fun, intelligent and, most of all, a kind soul. Of course, I think he’s devastatingly handsome, too!

I know that it’s difficult to find someone that ticks off all the boxes but believe me, that person is out there. Most of all, one shouldn’t forget to work on oneself and practise self-love to look and feel good on the inside and outside – and make the effort to change for the better. Don’t fuss over material things that don’t matter; love life and live it honestly and authentically. 

Scrolling through social media these days is like looking at an engagement and wedding album. If that’s not enough, you’re reminded by your friends, relatives and colleagues of that dreary question: When are you getting married? Or being told, “You simply haven’t met the one”. 

These words make my heart race with annoyance. They’re the ones who describe love as a magical force that pulls people together – a lightning bolt that electrifies and brightens your life. They say you’ll know when you meet the love of your life. They are also fearmongers, perpetuating the idea that you have to be in a relationship – if not, happiness will elude you.

I’ve always enjoyed being alone, where nobody else is responsible for my happiness. And my current status, as Brit actress Emma Watson, puts it: self-partnered. Translated: being happy and complete as an individual. In short, a self-partnered person does not feel compelled to seek fulfilment by having another person as an attachment.

I once belonged to the herd mentality that I’d fall crazily in love with someone, apply for a flat or buy a condo, get married by my mid-20s, have children, and live blissfully. I believed that being in a relationship and getting married was the natural path for everyone.

“I share a stronger relationship with myself, and – free of the social burden of ‘needing’ to find a partner – happiness visits often.” 

But trying to stay in pursuit of “the one” only made me unhappier. I rushed into relationships and even gave an ex-boyfriend an ultimatum: pressuring him to commit by threatening to leave.

He pointed out then that I liked the idea of romantic relationships, but didn’t actually want to be in one. This resonates strongly with me today. While I believe many enjoy fairytale-like weddings, they may not truly appreciate the concept of marriage or the hard work required to keep it alive.

I now view love as a fancy label for our physical imperatives and innate desire to mate. “The one” is objectified by romantics, a shopping list of things to fulfil, and finding this person is a project assigned by society. Some folks are resigned to this; others live in comfort to conform by societal standard.

Now, being self-partnered doesn’t mean one won’t date or ever fall in love and walk down the aisle someday. Since my last break-up, I share a stronger relationship with myself, and – free of the social burden of “needing” to find a partner – happiness visits often. Maybe I’ll meet somebody new, but until that day, I’ll continue to smile politely at anybody selling me love. 

From young this has defined me: pools of ambition that I’ve alternatively swam and struggled in. Terrified of waking up one day to find that I had wasted my life, I threw myself into work, trying to write my way into a life I found meaningful. I was raised in the age of change, where Hollywood romances had started to peter out into slogans of female independence, critical essays questioning the status quo of a life lived prioritising the couple over the individual. 

As a result, I saw a relationship as a likely death sentence to the pursuit of individual dreams, a lifetime of half-compromises. Where would I find a partner who would be okay with all the things I wanted? And six years ago, when I first met Shane on the eastbound train from Nanyang Technological University, I hoped.

The limit of Shane’s “okay” has stretched beyond the limits of my expectations. He has been by my side as I researched writing programmes, and he is the first reader and editor for any story I write, the organising principle to the chaos of my mind. He does this while maintaining a life, a career, and an artistic practice that’s separate from mine, and from our relationship.

In the past six years, my work as a travel host has taken me all over the world in short bursts – rehearsals in being apart – and yet he has never complained as I tried to figure out where my life was going. He has been more supportive than I could’ve ever dreamt of. Still, when I called him one evening last year with news of my acceptance to Columbia University School of the Arts, I was afraid. I thought, surely this is when he goes, “Alright, I just want a girlfriend who is present, is that so much to ask?” Instead, he asked me to marry him.

Two months before I flew, what I thought was a birthday celebration for a girlfriend turned out to be an elaborate proposal, a six-act theatrical experience based on a play he wrote. It dawned on me that this two-year long-distance relationship I had imposed on us with my ambition was not something he secretly resented, nor something he was simply tolerating. It’s something he is actively, wholeheartedly committing to.

“A relationship can have space for both parties to grow into their own person.” 

So we are engaged, promised to each other. But while a promise suggests future fulfilment, Shane has shown me that a relationship can have space for both parties to grow into their own person, chasing their dreams while always having a home to return to in the other. This should be obvious, but it is not always. The distance between us is also a promise towards reunion and, although we are physically apart, we know that the endgame is in each other.