There's something so fulfilling about Thighmastering away at 10:00 at night with a mimosa in one hand (the champagne's was gonna go flat) and a remote control in the other (exercise is only acceptable whilst being entertained). It's then you know your life has reached its pinnacle. It has one, you know. A pinnacle. Tonight I am thoughtful. Thinking thoughts. I'm full of them. Just tonight, though. Don't expect thoughtfulness all the time. Because that's impossible. After all, there are other things to think about besides thoughts. Shoes for one. Cat homicide for another. She's driving me to it. I swear I have the stupidest cat in all the animal kingdom.
Tonight I'm being asked to think about a love story. And so I am. Love is a concept to me that is almost as difficult to believe in as God. I say this with no pleasure. There is nothing glib about the statement. I find it rather sad, actually...this lack of faith...it haunts me at times. I have been in love (as much as I understand the feeling) 4 times. Considering my current state of cohabitation, this means I have fallen out of love 3 times. 3 people that were my entire life one minute and just weren't in the next. How scary is that? All of them represented something desirable to me at whatever point in my aged life I knew them at...but after a while...they just didn't anymore. They were no longer right. Sometimes it was me, sometimes it was them...but 3 times love didn't last. And in between all 4...names I can't even remember. More names than I'd like to admit.
I am positively bipolar where love is concerned. On Tuesday I want nothing more than to live and be by myself...sitting in the dark as I am now with a drink, a laptop, Radiohead and a candle to keep the light from feeling too electric. I want no one, nothing but my own company. I want my own thoughts. I want my own fantasies. I want to be alone. Then on Wednesday all I want is to be held and whispered to. I have a weakness for sweet nothings. And I don't care about all the conditions that come with them. Then on Thursday the conditions are insupportable. Until Friday...when I have conditions of my own...and I'm with someone who's willing to meet them.
I've heard that vomitous phrase, that 'love is like a roller coaster' and I know it seems like that fits with the paragraph above...but it doesn't. It's not like a roller coaster for a lot of happy people in this world. In continuing with cheesy analogies, for a lot of people love seems more like a carousel...going mildly up and down around and around for a minute and a half. Not necessarily boring (I ride a carousel everytime I happen upon one)...but less volatile. Perhaps less passionate, but that volatile passion is short-lived anyway, as it eventually breaks one or both.
As usual, I feel as though I'm having trouble illustrating where I'm going with this. What the fuck do I know about writing a love story? I'm afraid all I will be committing to paper (or hard drive) is a transcript of the debate that rages continuously in my head (often at very inappropriate times) about what love even is...and how hollow it sounds when I try to use the word.
And this, my friends, is the definition of a commitment phobe. I fear it can't be cured. I don't know how to be content. But I know how to pretend for literary purposes.
Which is good news for me since ty and the Waif are holding my newly shipped shoes hostage unless I write them a love story.
Bastards.
They're really cute shoes, too.
14 keep(s) me blogging:
A newly-wed couple got stranded in Botswana after their light aircraft crash-landed. They were close to death when they were found, holding hands and waiting for the end. Anyway, they're happily married now with a couple of kids. So maybe you should ask them.
This reminds me of this song.
And for furture reference, my people can take care of the people holding shoes from you for a small 'donation'.
Kara, I could have written this myself a while back. And now I've just read GB's comment and gotten tears in my middle-aged eyes...
The thing about love is that it isn't really much like Casablanca. Hollywood has a lot to answer for.
For what it's worth, love is a lot like life. You start out with something bright and shiny and a thrill a minute, then the next thing you know you've got a sinkful of dishes in a cold kitchen and a pile of laundry with your name on it.
One horrible January, our eldest had a 104 degree temperature. She threw up everywhere and did the other thing too, and my husband and I cleaned it up together. And he told a joke that made me laugh so hard I lost my balance, and I slipped in the stuff left on the floor and hurt my butt, and he made me a cup of tea and ran me a bath that I never got to take because our eldest threw up again. Then he went back to bed and I stayed up with the kid all night.
That's love. It ain't Hollywood, but it'll do me.
goranas - yeah...i know it happens. but it certainly doesn't happen to everyone...and i don't think i can expect it to. besides, that story leads me directly to thinking about the end of War of the Roses.
or - i will use your kind offer as a means of ignoring the fact that you compared me to a PINK SONG. remind me to burn you some music.
mary - i'm not afraid of those things. the intimacy of every day life isn't hard for me to share with someone. it's just hard for me to imagine that i'll want to forever. or more than a year. whichever comes first. i struggle with what i want vs. what i think i (should) want.
Kara, as someone who knows you pretty damn well, I completely get what you meant. That's all, no advice. I just get it.
PS They really ARE bastards. Shoes for a script? C'mon...
Commitment phobia? Maybe try to reword it as Undercommitment Rational Fear?
Oh and this cracks me up:
http://stuffwhitepeoplelike.wordpress.com/2008/02/18/70-difficult-breakups/
Oh and I recommend that you listen to Forks & Knives by Beirut like at least 5 times in a row.
The trap is in having expectations regarding love, especially the expectation that it is going to last. If you draw on a small bit of Buddhism, enjoy what it is at the moment. Wishing and hoping for things, like love that will last forever, involves pain. The same pain also comes from regretting what one has done in the past.
The truth is, 0% of the people on their wedding day believe they will ever divorce. But statistically over 50% will. You change, the other person changes, and situations change. Overall, change is good; it is integral to growth as you build the person you are over a lifetime. But sometimes that growth may take a different path from that of your partner.
And even if you do remain together for life, well, there will eventually be a time when only one of you remains on the planet.
The moment of "Now" is all you really have that is truly tangible. So enjoy your times alone, enjoy your times together and do not cloud your life with expectation.
Maybe you could just write a story about how much you love those shoes, even though you've been unjustly kept apart?
I won't pretend to know what love is, 'cause I don't. I know how it feels to be loved, and for that I'm happy.
Enjoy life, that's the best thing you could do for yourself... alone and/or with someone.
All I can contribute is, "What Would Jane Say"?
okay, enough said. i hope the bottle is empty as same as the thought that linger in your head. it is too soon to right these things. tomorrow brings the sun that shall make it good. make it good before nightfall.
Sing it with me now:
"Monday you could fall apart, Tuesday, Wednesday, break my heart. Thursday doesn't even start, its Friday, I'm in love"
Don't worry, I know the feeling.
Not that I don't ADORE my loving boyfriend. Love is a mysterious fig.
Commitment, eh? The dreaded C-word.
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