Love. It is likely the most popular topic in the history of time. We sing about it. We write about it. We worship it. We crave it. We need it to survive. Yet, ask someone to define love and it’s the rare person who can readily do so. I’ll be the first to admit that, despite my bravado, I don’t know the first thing about love.
In popular culture, love is a feeling. It is the butterflies in the pit of your stomach or the way you can’t get the object of your affection off of your mind. You want to spend every free moment with that person. You can talk for hours. The physical chemistry is intense and addicting.
I have come to the conclusion that what I just described may simply be short-lived lust, but could also be the beginning of a long-lived love affair.
The problem begins when the butterflies start to fly away and you begin to notice the little, annoying things about your partner. We all have them. I burp. Loud….and frequently. Most men don’t find this particularly endearing. I think it’s funny and entertaining, but apparently my opinion is not the only one that counts.
Enough about burping….
So, the honeymoon period begins to wear off after the first few months (longer, if you’re lucky). You’ve had your first fight or two. You are getting tired of your girlfriend randomly burping out loud while you’re watching your favorite show. The paint is chipping off and you realize your perfect sweetie has flaws. Suddenly, you start to question whether this is actually your true “soulmate” like you believed in the beginning.
This is where love should come in.
Maybe love is not just a feeling, but a verb. A choice.
It is at this point that many of us frantically begin looking for the nearest exit instead of deciding to accept that person, flaws and all.
“Surely, the perfect woman is out there for me, and I am positive that she does not burp on cue”.
So, you make the decision to laser focus in on all of the things that are wrong with the relationship, and the other party in said relationship. You slowly, or perhaps swiftly, detach and end it. Now you’re back on the market eagerly looking for the next victim.
But, guess what? The pattern keeps repeating. You ask yourself, “Why do I always end up with crazy, burping girls?”. Is there a point where you begin to look inward? Where you begin to accept that nobody is perfect? Where you get tired of starting over…and over…and over.
They say the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, expecting different results. That pretty much puts the majority of us in the insane category.
Love is confusing, devastating, and raw yet beautiful, fulfilling, and exciting. I hope to find it someday…