Donnerstag, 30. September 2010

Definition of love.


“Being in love is nothing, it’s sticking together that’s difficult.”






Life for me didn’t begin the day I met Bryan; nor once we fell for each other. I can’t know the day that even happened. It wasn’t ‘a’ day. Love hadn’t yet factored into my life, let alone my thoughts when [we] first met. Dating was always like a ‘thing’ I just felt I was supposed to do. Then ... -- well, what comes next: Then I met Bryan and the rest is history. Right. Not really. What I experience love not to be: I don’t think it’s that initial tingly feeling which is usually lust cloaking itself as something more enduring when unaccompanied by that other emotion or the desperation that requires love to begin with: ‘once upon a time’ and ends in ‘And they lived happily ever after’, meanwhile in some other time, in some far away distant land a knight in shining armor shows up willing to serve and obey miss modern day damsel in distress. The latter, being rather, actually unattractive and abasing. I think love is largely about brutal honesty, and compassion since we’re playing with definitions here. I do so enjoy the idea of being a ‘power couple’, though, not to “gain” or seek power over others, nor to concern ourselves with others, at least in terms of how we embrace our relationship. And maybe chivalry is more aesthetically appropriate but I find it also, boring. Almost sophomoric; it has the potential to seem lazy and impatient -- expectant and demanding. Yes to: good natured, well mannered, kindly, compassionate and truthful, |of course|, but I can’t stand the idea of love as [conscious] enslavement, or disempowerment. To be regarded highly and only, but not by force, or on unrealistic and ridiculous conditions. I want to be enriched, and enriching, not served or serving. I believe that when you truly are in love with someone, anything you do for them, no matter how drastic or simple the gesture, it isn’t going to be a kind of service. - It’s just second nature. To possess is to neuter, and disempower. You love and so your instincts push you, almost effortlessly and mutually, to guide, not grovel.


A thought that will occasionally cross my mind, regarding our relationship: Funny how the two of us ended up together. It’s so true and so strange how it all fell into place. I cannot imagine my life without this individual now. What chance.

When I think of love, I think the only true or legitimate rule(s) I’ve ever really had, are: Be truthful to yourself, and truthful to me. I think of all kinds of negative scenarios sometimes, but I think, maybe (?) that’s normal; mentally preparing for bad situations -- even if they’ve never happened in the past and likely won’t come in the future. And while Bryan has never cheated on {me}, and is just not the type to, if there is even really {a type}, - I sometimes wonder how I’d react: what-if. What if it happened, without ever having experienced how that situation might feel. I imagine I’d probably be upset with Bryan, not the other. It’s never the duty or commitment of the other, and blame is still only blame. It solves nothing, and you’ve got to face the situation head on still. Blame prolongs the hurt and distracts the reality of the situation. Which I imagine to be both relieving and painfully drawn out. Sounds logical, I guess. And what do I know. I’ve never been there, but: What-If. And another : death. I don’t think I ever *truly* paid ‘death’ mind until I experienced love. But unlike the infidelity scenario, death is certain, and much like our coming together is due solely to chance, so then is our coming apart. And this is the most terrifying thought of all. Exposed and totally vulnerable. I’m not so keen on believing we’ll just magically contract painless-sleeping-death-syndrome in bed together on the very same night. - blissfully and “fatefully”, we perish! But not before we burn! and pine! Of course! heh. There are some who are absolutely anti-love for the sheer fact, fear and anticipation of having to endure the pain of loss. I cannot imagine sitting here typing away on my journal, baking my little treats, snapping the hours away with my camera or ever Doing. Anything. The. Same. Ever. Again. Without: Bryan in my life. And to think, at all, on losing him. - It’s crushing. It changes *all things* Right now is Now, we’re here and all that, and I guess it’s so easy to ‘what-if’ these things, because I’m GRATEFUL for them being just: what-ifs. So. I can’t say my life started the moment I fell for Bryan, but it’s fair to say it very well could end without him in it now.


Of course I’m this brazen and matter-of-fact about love. I’m in love. I love someone who happens to love me at the very same time. There’s no need to attempt poetry here or write love letters. Everyday in love is love. Everyday we are together is love. That he will still turn away when I ask him, as I’m dressing -- even though we’ve seen each other. So that it may be more fun to see the end result of time spent dressing and all of that other ultra girly shit. And even though he still sneaks his peeks and I still bitch at him for it. Yes. That’s love. Silly, ordinary moments become flirtatious and memorable times. That he makes me feel good about my interests, studies, obsessions, and choices even when it isn’t a mutual interest or opinion, and that we're not afraid to disagree with each other. = That it's more attractive to agree with each other, when we actually agree with each other. That there are worse things than the worst things about him. Suddenly it seems cheap to speak in any other way about someone you love, to speak too much is still too little, saying anything, at all, will still not say enough, or tries to say too much, like maybe right now, for instance. But you become safe in that you don’t feel you need to say everything. It’s safe while you’re totally exposed and there’s no real way to define how that actually feels. Flowery adjectives and sonnets with logic laden hymns aren’t going to perform or prove or describe a damned thing. I don’t believe in fate. I know how vulnerable being in love makes two people, sometimes against their own will. But I’d rather love and suffer and all of that, than not. But not just because. But for one person I’m able to arrive to that conclusion. How effortless the effort is to be so close.

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