My friend and I went to see Evita at the Dominion last week. It’s a production I’ve wanted to see for years, as I’ve always felt as certain affinity for Eva’s story – packing up from the countryside and moving to the big, scary city to try and make it. Arriving with a man in mind and being swiftly abandoned by same.
She, of course, on to become an icon and spiritual leader of Argentina. I went on to become a social media editor.
The production is brilliant if any of you get the chance to see it.
But while there, a couple a few rows in front of my friend and I caught my eye. As he put his arm around her, she rested her head against his shoulder, whispering up into his ear. There was something so tender and beautiful about them. Normally couples like that, with public displays of affection, it all seems so contrived and showy-offy. But there was a sense of something genuine there.
Although i loved the production, and although I loved being there with one of my best friends, it made me long for something to work out with love. It’s never really bothered me until recently, but lately it’s like a yearning has opened up inside me. A desire to share those experiences with someone special. Someone who, when he puts his arm around me, I can whisper words into his ear.
When I was a teenager, around the time I first listened to Evita, I thought I would never find love. I knew I was different, and there were some days I felt like I didn’t even have (or deserve) friends, let alone lovers. I felt ugly and ungainly, miserable and so lonely. I fell deeply into what I thought was love with someone, but the idea of someone like that loving m back seemed inconceivable – how could such happiness even exist, especially for someone like me.
To get out into the world, working and living the London life has made me happier than I could have thought possible. Happier than I even probably deserve to be at this point. It almost seems like to dream of that one special someone s too much, as though I’m being greedy of life itself.
Is it so?
Romantics like to say that nothing matters more than love. Growing up in a harsh boarding school environment and graduating in a recession have made me realise that friendship, money and job satisfaction go long ways to enhancing the enjoyment of life too.
Not to mention living a suitably long way from home – it is possible to live too close to family in the pursuit of freedom and financial security.
Is wanting to find that special someone after coming so far and being,so blessed selfish, or sensible?
I have no desire for children, but I do so long to find someone I can explore love with. I feel like I’ve tasted a spoonful in my (unsuccessful) relationships so far, but I should so like to try the full course dinner.
There was a time when I aspired to be like Eva, and fall in love with Dior and diamonds more than deep, true love.
Having grown up, I know that the latter is far more valuable.