Peter Pan

When you hear the name Peter Pan, the animated Disney movie that was first released in 1953 should come to mind. However, when I think about Peter Pan, I think of a twenty-seven year old lost boy. I think of tanned muscular arms that held me tightly. I think about late night deep meaningful conversations that turned into morning whispers as we said goodnight because our eyes were too heavy to stay awake anymore. I think about fun, laughter, sun, and no responsibilities. I think about a laugh that stops you from breathing and a smile that stretches across the desert. I think about hands that fit together perfectly, like a jigsaw puzzle - made to be together. I think about my lost boy, who had passionate dreams without the means to make them a reality. I think about the man he could have become if he ever stopped being Peter Pan. I think about a great love story that ended before it began.

In my story, Peter Pan was a beautiful Arab, who was born lost - he has never had any direction or guidance. He was by far the prettiest boy I ever dated! I waited for him tell me he loved me three times before I uttered these three important words back to him. When I did finally say them back, it was with extreme passion and truth. I have never loved anyone so much in my life. Unfortunately, my version of Peter Pan does not live up to Disney standards, and ended badly. The two tales are similar, however, with Tinkerbel always being there for Peter, while Peter continuously misused poor Tinks and took her for granted. My lost boy was my favourite drug; I would die for him. In contrast, I was his cigarette; when he was done with me he simply stepped on me and walked away.

He is a Palestinian and I, a South African. He is Muslim, while I am Christian. That should have been enough of a warning sign. “Two roads diverged in a wood, and I took the one less travelled by...” Oh Robert Frost, if you only knew the road I took! Although we were friends, the chemistry was electric. When we finally made that transition from friendship to more I instantly knew I was in trouble. I looked him square in the eye, and I accused him, “You are dangerous! I could fall in love with you”, and before I knew it, I had. I gave him my entire heart and soul without hesitation.

From that first moment when I felt his soft lips on mine, I was doomed. Things were just so comfortable from the very beginning. I have never slept so well in my life as I did with him sleeping next to me. He snored so soothingly and so silently, it was like a lullaby. He quickly became my best friend. I loved talking to him. We had the best conversations about everything. I loved spending time with him. Simply being in his company would set my soul on fire – in the best possible way. My heart would explode from happiness when he would grab my hand in his. I loved hearing him call me baby, like I was the only girl in the world, and staring into those deep brown eyes melted my heart.

If only he hadn’t been Peter Pan. If only he hadn’t been so lost. I guess, though, that is exactly one of the many reasons I loved him. No relationship is perfect. Everyone fights. When he would fight, it was with venom. He would fight so dirty always making me feel like I had done something horrible. Something completely unforgivable which, of course was never actually the case.Truth be told, I acted like a complete crazy person at times because I found myself in the most bizarre situations of my life. When you are put into an insane situation and you are pushed to your limits, you are capable of doing and saying things that would completely surprise you. I can honestly say that each and every time I was shocked at my own behaviour, I would reflect and I would know I was in love and that I was in a crazy situation. It may not have been excusable,but it most certainly was understandable. It doesn’t matter which way you slice it though, I was never as bad as his reaction was. His reaction was always the epitome of hyperbolic reactions. The childish behaviour, the shouting and the overreacting, would only drive me more crazy.

To be cheated on, emotionally, or physically, to have your trsut and your faith in someone destroyed is never easy. Dealing with the heart break of it all is torture. Even today as I am writing this, my heart aches while I wait for my heart to catch up with my head. Three weeks ago I stopped replying to him. Three weeks ago, he said he was sorry and I did not reply. Three weeks have gone by and he has not messaged me. I keep reiterating three weeks, because it has only been a short amount of time. I expect to feel whole already. I expected him to care enough to at least message me. The realisation that Peter Pan and I will never be is soul destroying. It’s like being kicked in the stomach while you’re already down and gasping for air.

Peter Pan is a magical being. He draws you in with his boyish good looks and he has an innocence about him because he is lost. You want to look after him but you have to remember that he has a mean streak in him and he abuses poor Tinks, and Wendy too. The best thing in the end is for both Tinks and Wendy to let Peter go. Even Peter eventually grows up! I hope he does too.