Nothing less than extraordinary

The other day, weeks before this day, several of work colleagues and me went to a restaurant to chill out after a long day at work. Then suddenly the topic turned to love stories.
Haish...
I dreaded it because mine were stories that have never been. Like the promise of rain, and you put off all your plans for a picnic because you heard the thunder roaring. There you are, in your best Summer dress with the big hat and all, stalling all plans just because you don't want to ruin a perfectly planned day. You called your love up, saying sorry, maybe another day. But then, all that happened were a brief shower of tiny raindrops and the sun didn't even bother to stop shining. You finally go out, and see with melancholic eyes the distant rainbow in the sky. The world fell silent, hoping that the rainbow can make it up to you because of a ruined plan with a loved one. In the end, all you are left with is only the rainbow that makes you rain in the eyes because you know that your love will never ever see you again. Because you see, it never rained there at the place he is waiting.
.
.
.
Whatever the case is, all we can do is to move on. Hoping that something will finally come through. It's either the rain will fall or it doesn't. The important thing is, he waits.
Why waste time for someone who wouldn't even wait for you, especially if it is for the right reasons right?

Then after every one has told their story and I can't evade it anymore, I told my story as if I was offended with Batik Jawa. Maybe I was. Who knows? Even I was not sure. But now I've come to a conclusion as to why I was so hurt. I think he didn't even love me or like me or whatever. Why? Because he is so methodical about it. Having a checklist and all. Like this:

Like everybody who is not in love, he thought one chose the person to be loved after endless deliberations and on the basis of particular qualities or advantages.  ~Marcel Proust, Remembrance of Things Past: Cities of the Plain, 1922

See? You understand now?
For me, love has a kind of irrationality in it. Not the stupid kind, mind you. It is as simple as two people who want to be with each other, and will do anything, everything to make that possibility a reality. If you are able to be rational in love then maybe you are not yet blessed by it. It may be disguising itself as love, but actually it is some other mediocre sensation like fulfilling a requirement or just testing the waters.
So for me, love is a fire that burns in your heart. If it is lukewarm, it is disappointing. A love like that is just like a biscuit that is dunked in a lukewarm drink. You have to keep stirring the biscuit for it to soak in the drink. But then you dunked it too long that when you finally pulled it out, it resembled a flaccid flour abomination that would break and fall into the drink any time. When you put it on your tongue, you close your eyes a bit because it taste disgustingly soft and cold.
If the water is hot, you just dunk it a couple of seconds in the steaming drink and the biscuit will absorb the drink and plus retain a bit of the original crunchiness that biscuits are supposed to have. If you dunk it a second too long then it will break and fall into the water. But you are not disappointed, because the important thing is the water is hot. Biscuits are aplenty. Let it fall, let it fall because it was not meant for you anyway.
So no, I pray that I won't have to settle for mediocrity in love or life. That would be a life sentence of boredom for the rest of my days. I've waited this long, so it must be worth it.