That Cerulean Jacket
“Hey, that’s a nice colour, since when do you like blue?” I asked her.
“I always liked this colour and it’s not blue its cerulean.” She said in her soft correction tone.
“Really, I thought it was green at first place, then I remember I was colour blind. SO...” I said in my sarcastic tone.
“Come on…” She said, trying not to laugh at my joke.
“He likes this colour, will it look good?” She asked me as if I was some kind of fashion jury.
“He means your boyfriend?” I asked suspiciously.
“Obviously.”
“I don’t know what happens to guy’s fashion sense these days but I am pretty much sure, if he would be a little bit sane then he’ll probably not wear a lady’s jacket.” I started laughing.
“This is not for him, it’s for me.” She clarified.
“Oh… wear it then.” I said. It was looking good; I really don’t praise her beauty that much but it looks good.
“Good, he’ll love it.”
“Really?” She asked.
“Yeah… but I don’t understand, you are buying a blue…I’m sorry a cerulean jacket…just because it is your boyfriend’s
favourite colour and you are gonna wear it and show it to him, so he can praise you. Of what? Wearing a colour you don’t even
like.” I was a little bit irritated with her.
“It’s not about the colour.” She said.
“I’m sorry, but can you enlighten me what’s this all about?” I asked.
“You’ll not understand, it is a relationship and when you are in a relationship, you have a responsibility, okay, you don’t just understand that person you need to walk with the person, matching every step.”
“Are you serious?” I was shocked.
“Please don’t tell me you quit drinking beer because he said that,” I said.
“I… I… I don’t like it anymore, that’s it.” What the fuck?
“Don’t you see it? he’s trying to control you; you are not a robot for god sake.”
“He’s not controlling me; I am doing everything to make it perfect.” she said.
“PERFECT… perfect… perfect my ass, nothing is perfect. The only perfect thing about love is; it is not perfect at all.” I said.
“I don’t wanna argue with you. You don’t understand anything,” she said.
“You know, it has been 15 years of our friendship and if I don’t understand you, then I’m sorry to tell you that nobody ever will; not even him. And you don’t get to talk about relationship and responsibility, okay. I know your daily schedule, sick for three days but not having medicines, no lunch, survival on fruit juice, seriously, how the hell will he take care of you when you can’t even take care of yourself.” I said I was angry.
“I am taking care of myself.” She protested.
“Stop it,” I said.
“Relationship…Relationship...Relationship. The truth is, in order to make your relationship perfect you have forgotten what actually you need. You have become that more relationship and less romance kind of girl. That’s just sad, I pity you.” I was sad
too.
“So, what is your perfect advice? To make things right,” she asked.
“My perfect advice is…FUCK perfect. Let things be wrong for a while. Love doesn’t define perfectionism, it defines accepting each other by all mean, no matter how different you are from that person, no matter how parted your thinking is. There is not judgement. No matter how much mistakes you do, you always find a way to forgive each other. That is love.” I said in one breath.
“Hmmm…”
I told her not to buy that jacket and left. I really didn’t want to know if she bought it or not and even if she did, I’ll not tell you because I don’t want you to judge her. I just wanted her to do things for herself not for him or anybody else; not even for me.