Here’s a question-
People (or more like scripted characters in romantic comedies) seem to always be implying the logic of “when you know you know” when it comes to being in love with the right person. But, is this actually the case? Writers and dramatic movie scenes aside, in the real world, is there a way to know for sure?
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Growing up is hard to do, so I decided to write about it.
I know that I don’t owe anyone any kind of explanation. That it’s really not even necessary for me to share anything more before bowing away from writing about love. I could simply say “enough” and be done with the entire web of relationship advice, living in the past, and essentially being an open book and an open heart to the world. But after nearly 200 posts on such a theme an abrupt end simply seems wrong.
This past October I was determined. I was certain I needed to stop participating in unhealthy relationships, to stop manipulating the emotions of those around me, and to stop pretending to know my own heart when it was actually a complete stranger to me. This vow led me to decide I needed accountability, and agreeing words from friends counseled me in deciding that at minimum I needed to take a year off the dating market. The time frame was mostly picked at random, with the intent of breaking my relationship cycle. A routine that had me depending on a boyfriend for my own identity and left maybe one month between each new man. In many ways I had come to describe myself as an “I love you addict” and nothing good, or authentic or true, had come out of the last 3 boyfriends. I looked at myself and realized I had been saying the words without feeling and if I wanted to get myself back, to feel love and know it, I needed to stop forcing and lying about the one emotion I idealized.
Perhaps the idealism that I had for love led me to pretend with boyfriends, hoping that since they felt it I would too. Somehow believing that such a powerful emotion could be passed along. Needing the validation of another’s heart to know my own. In this way I never looked at my own heart, I never asked what I was feeling, and in my fear of the unknown and my impatience to be loved I lied. And I was unfair, and looking back I was ashamed of the girlfriend I had been. Reaching the point where I was heartbroken over how far away from love, the one thing I held the most hope for as a little girl, I was I knew I needed to let go. I needed to stop.
So I laid down the 1 year gauntlet. And I was perfectly okay with it, of course Christmas was lonely and I wanted to feel the comfort of a relationship again, but I also wanted to feel more than that. All my recent relationships had been comfortable, but only because I knew they loved me, not that I certainly loved them. They were convenient and secure because they eliminated doubt. After two months alone I knew I wanted more than comfort and one-sided security. I wanted intensity and passion, laughter, confidence, conversation, vulnerability, and everything in between. I wanted the kind of love I imagined existed when I watched a Disney princess at four years old. I wanted the one thing I never had completely. To believe that you could really have a best friend, boyfriend, daydreamer, and encourager all in one. Maybe just to believe that love could be magical.
Knowing what I wanted made the months pass easily and without much urge to settle for a boyfriend. I didn’t want to repeat what I had come to know as the four month curse, where I would inevitably be over a boyfriend and his love at or before the four month mark. Knowing I had a relationship pattern was not easy, and it does not make me proud or happy or anything but sorry when I look back. I refused to settle because I didn’t want to drop someone else’s heart, I didn’t want to inflict any more pain. I didn’t want to feel incomplete anymore or like a phony. So I wasn’t fazed by flirting and I wasn’t seeking out dates. I even ignored some kind offers. I was safely past the hard part and ready to ignore dating temptation.
I was single for four months. In a way these 4 months are ironic in how they mirror the curse.
But I could not help when the singledom stopped. This time, if I had said no to the relationship I would have been lying to myself. Not lying and faking love like before, but lying because I would have been denying the possibility of it. Of course at the time we began dating I didn’t label it as love, and I didn’t in the first three months either. The four month came and when compared to the habits of my past, the pace I experienced to find this love was practical, honest, and authentic. It was real, and the furthest thing from a lie.
So? I didn’t make the goal, I didn’t remain alone for 365 days, but I also didn’t force it or fake it or manipulate his heart. I didn’t push, I didn’t pretend, and I didn’t play with emotions. I let them be, I let them happen.
I can’t lie to readers, and I can’t lie about what I want. I could continue to write about love, but the reality is I am absorbed by feeling it and experiencing it that I can’t devote myself to words. While they don’t do it justice they also don’t belong to the world. They belong to us. The genuineness of it makes me want to keep it private, to hold onto it tightly and be selfish with it. Every detail of how he makes me smile and the way my chest tightens and fulfills every cliché out there belongs to no one else. I can’t diminish what there is, but I also don’t want to try and describe it anymore.
I am just going to live it, love it. And, of course, love him.
It’s time for a gander into the game of devil’s advocate.
On my way to work a question popped into my mind- I started to wonder the simple reason of “why?” And of course, once one question pops into your head the domino affect of questions occurs (unless you don’t think like me, and to that I say you’re lucky). Either way, for now pretend our minds process things the same way and go along with my train of thought:
Why are couples so important? Why is the pursuit of your perfect match given so much worth? Why is a great fit so rare? Why do we need to feel connected to just one other person? Why monogamy? Why do some work and some not? Why one true love? Why different degrees of love?
And then came the “what” thoughts:
What does commitment even mean? What does being secure feel like? What makes us trust someone? What makes you know you find someone? What causes a break up? What decides if someone is or isn’t worth holding onto? What about our love is unique? What kind of confidence can you have in love? What should I expect? What started making people feel the need to pair off?
And the “how”:
How do you know? How do I know? How different? How special? How true? How careful should I be? How will this end? How could this end?
You get the picture.
And all the while these (no less than a) million questions swirled throughout me I never had individual answers. Not once did I stop the spiraling train of thought and answer each specific question raised. Never did I stop and start writing, or phone a friend for advice. No part of me felt the urge to text the universe like crazy just to find the solution. Not once did I seek out conclusive answers, because not once did I really need them.
Maybe I am spastic and chaotic and have a billion emotions all across the board. But in spite of all this I know one thing. I know I didn’t need one logical answer because I don’t want logic. Not for this. Not for love. Finally I understand- when you know you know.
I have never been to Paris. My lack of adventure to the French city may confuse some when I say I have been to the other city of love. But fear not, there is another place where such a claim can be made and where my escape led to nothing less.
I spent the last four days in Toronto. Never having been to Canada before I can’t say I really knew what to expect beyond my girlfriend expectations of having a romantic getaway. A heavy assumption and one likely to get a gal’s hopes up and leave her feeling a small pang of disappointment when she is not completely swept off her feet by her beau. Nonetheless I chose to go in open hearted and open to every experience that may cross my escapist path. Lucky for me I either have great karma or have every lucky charm in the book, either way my escape to Canada was the one time every expectation I had was exceeded.
And I got to do it all without thinking. Let me explain, in case you didn’t notice from this blog I am an over-thinker, an over analyzer and over the top introspect-or, anything under the sun you can associate with reading too much into something = me. So it is unheard of for me to escape my mind. Take me on a vacation anywhere in the world and this will be an impossible feat. Heck, as far back as I can remember, even when I was too young to be worrying about life’s themes of love and pain I was experiencing woes of sheer wonder. Anything that can be worried about or considered usually has when it comes to me, and I have been that way my entire life. I assumed that this trip would not be any different. ‘
But it was.
(Disclaimer: this is in no way an attempt to say I have not enjoyed past vacations, I am lucky to have seen as much of the world as I have and had as many laughs and great opportunities as my family has given. I have loved every second of them).
So why was this weekend away so different that I didn’t think to the extreme and mind read every conversation? Simple really, I was with my best friend and best match. Somewhere between having a friendship and a romance comes the best compatibility, the kind that stops me from assuming the worst or belittling my own feelings. I have found the ability to validate my own heart without over-thinking what my match’s heart may be feeling, maybe I am mostly able to do this because I know (I feel) we mirror each other. Or maybe it is because I am too blind to realize what’s real. Either way I am happy, and going with the we are on the same page scenario feels more fitting, it also feels right. And when things feel this way there is nothing left to think about. No real worries to be had because it’s easy and real and it won’t go away. Why sweat the small stuff when all of it really just happy?
I suppose that I could make some things up for myself, supply my wandering mind with worries to help feel more normal. But if this weekend wasn’t normal than I am afraid I never want to be normal again.
Finding someone who balances you is worth every other tiny worry that has ever crossed your path. Mostly because it makes the now so much more undeniably obvious.
So why is Toronto the city of love?
Hm, I will let you think about it, maybe take a trip there yourself.
No hesitating.
I know what I am about to say will be yet another cliche. But let’s face it, a blog about love is bound to be a line of glorified cheesy remarks and cliches. I have said it before and I will continue to say it- cliches about love must come from somewhere and sometimes they are the only appropriate words to describe a feeling, It may appear redundant or overused, but they simply be the best words to fit for an occasion. So if you don’t like the sappy words I say, tough cookies.
Life is short.
Perhaps the above is the most obvious and repeated slogan. But it’s true. And lately I have been thinking a lot about its value.
Of course there have been eye opening times in my life, I believe everyone can relate and attest to that kind of occurrence. But even after these days or times of epiphany where we decide to carpe diem and live life to the fullest things tend to go back to normal. Not being a spontaneous person I am okay with the normalcy. Sky diving and bungee jumping is not how I want to react to the “life is short” cliche. My real reaction to it is honesty, authenticity. Mostly when it comes to my heart and the people who matter to me in my life.
(Again prepare yourself for my sappy monologue). Life may be short, that is a fact, but emotions are undervalued. More often than not people in the world remain disconnected from each other, from being truthful, and exposing their hearts. But my absolute biggest fear is losing someone. In any sense of the word I have abandonment issues and could not handle having to let go of anyone knowing I didn’t tell them how I felt. I have never truly believed closure was possible, but in death and loss, the one comforting notion is honesty. Knowing you had an open heart with the departed and that you hold no regrets in their absence. This in itself would be the ultimate regret for me, not being truthful to the emotions that define me.
I am nothing more than a jumbled mess of feelings. But if you stick with me and untangle some I think it’s worth it, because as much as I am a knot I am also full of love. A notion that scared me for the longest time because I didn’t know what to do with it. But you can’t live in fear forever, not when life is short. Words do have power, and mostly the power is good, as long as you’re sincere in what you say I see no reason to hold back. Better to have said it and released it, than to wonder.
What’s the worst that can happen? In the end all I am is how I feel, and if I can’t share that than life will feel a lot longer and a lot more lonely than necessary.
(imagine this post to Sufjan Stevens song “All things go”)
I wonder if there is such a thing as being too curious.
For starters, I know a few days ago I reached the conclusion that this blog should come to an end. And a large part of me still feels a similar sentiment. But I suppose an even larger part of me is not ready to let go and take the gamble. Essentially ending this commitment, the journey of writing about love in an attempt to understand it, I am giving up. Mostly just giving up on the idea that love can be defined and calculated, the notion that I can guard my heart but still love by following outlined steps. Pretty early on in this experience I noticed there was no timeline. And this frustrated and angered me to no end. I wanted to know what to do! I wanted to know how to act, and what to say, and who to trust. Things that no one, apparently not even Myself, could breakdown for me.
So, I was left to blindly interpret love. Another feat I found near impossible. But, as I said, I am far too curious for my own good. As such I couldn’t just throw in the towel and feel the release of letting love happen, sweep me off my feet. The cynical side of me doubted that this would ever happen. And the questioning side continued to ponder.
I am writing now, not because I have the answer, but really to say curious doesn’t find love. Love finds you. Now, stop laughing at that cliche line and listen up.
Every love is different. Look at the relationships around you. Every person reacts and feels and behaves as part of a couple differently. So stop comparing. You can’t have what they have and they will never have what you will. People are too different and complicated for their to be such a simple pattern to love. While this makes the breakdown of love much more complicated it also makes it immensely more, well for lack of a better word, awesome. Realizing this is possibly my favorite discovery thus far in life (discluding the magic of a peanut butter and marshmellow toasted sandwich). Seriously though, it’s unqiue. And that’s exactly why it should not be ignored or underestimated or not said. Love, real love, makes you see that there won’t be another one to come along. That this couple, this pair is the right match and never again will there be another 2 that make such a combination. No one else will make you feel that same way, will have the same affect on your smile or your train of thought. True love does only happen once, because if you’re not a complete idiot you recognize the magic and hold onto it.
I may be too curious for my own good, and my constant questions and emotional needs to know what the future holds may drive my boyfriend insane. But that’s who I am. I am the girl that wonders. The woman with an eager and excited little girl on the inside who still believes in happily every after and has a strong urge to also believe in serendipity. I do get swept up, I do fall head over heels, and finally I am not afraid to let that happen.
Mostly because it’s pretty awesome to think that magic may truly exist.
I will keep this simple, mostly because there are very few things that I know for sure. That being said, I know this:
Two people being right for each other, connecting and lasting, is perhaps the biggest mystery of the world. Especially with so much anger in the world and things dependent on the whims of coincidence. I will never not be in awe of how two find love.
Even if the idea of love sometimes gets diminished by sappy romantic comedies and cliches. In spite of these notions I remain impressed.
Just a reminder that the really amazing feeling is rare and should never be absent. Allow me to use a cheesy line now:
Once you find it, don’t be afraid of the happily ever after.
I wanted to end this blog on a note of encouragement. Recognizing that love isn’t always about two people, and that it often enough starts with just one person. I have been lucky enough to experience the journey towards self love, but there is more I want to say about the two person kind. I suppose you’re not rid of me just yet.
For the most part I like to believe I wear my heart on my sleeve. A scenario that until recently would have been a complete lie. Coming for the habit of always trying to tell others what they want to hear, the “heart” on my sleeve in past relationships was altered, vague, and forced. I wanted boyfriends to feel loved, even if on my end it was more in a platonic light I did not bother to clarify. But now my real heart, the genuine one, is out in the world. Loud and present on my arm, making me want to wear long sleeves and pretend I am not lost to the emotion. Now, I have been genuine with my heart, caring for it first and foremost before finding someone else who might want to.
I was the last person in the world I trusted, my own voice that is. Until one day I stopped to actually listen to myself in a relationship, witnessing the words and light manipulation of a girl just desperate to be loved. Disgusted would be too harsh of a word to apply to ones self, but for lack of anything more intense, I was disappointed. I looked at the so called love being experienced and I saw directly through it, or I felt no giant pull to hold onto it, fight for it. So, three times in a row, I ended things. Abruptly perhaps, and maybe even thoughtlessly. But in the end I had to go off my authentic feelings, which as far as most of the relationships are concerned, had been lost.
You know that feeling when you try to hold your breath far too long under water and then suddenly get to burst to the surface? For the first dozen or so seconds you are gasping for breath, and then you start to take in your surroundings and adjust, until final the woozy feeling begins to subside and you feel like normal is coming soon. This is me in the end of a relationship. Or, more specifically, I let out a long and steady breath. I am not suddenly elated to have hurt someone else’s heart and I don’t do some kind of jig, I am not that cruel. More realistically I relax. Almost as if for months I have been both treading water and attempting to hold my breath underneath it intermittently. And finally, when I start to feel that sensation of normal again I get scared. And the cycle of needing a boyfriend would continue as my loss of love filled me with emptiness.
That is until this year. Bobbing around and wading my way through dating, all the while awaiting that sigh when I got to be alone again, had worn me down. I didn’t want that. I wanted to trust in someone, but to trust someone fully I needed to know I was worth trusting. And as far as the relationship resume was concerned, I wasn’t. I was practically leaping to hear someone love me, without being 100% when I said it too, or when I pursued it.
Step one then became trusting myself to validate myself. I can’t do it everyday all day. But finally when I look at who I am, or how I assume people see me I don’t shrug with regret. I don’t apologize for who I am (but I do still have a bad habit of quickly saying “I’m sorry” if someone looks mad). Now I apologize only for who I was, and I do this through my current actions.
Step two was realizing that love is a risk I had been far too scared to take for 3 years (technically my entire life). Realizing this was freeing to an extent, it allowed for me to feel new, almost like I had never given parts of me away. It also gave me permission to hope for love again. Because, if I had not really let love happen, if I had not released myself fully to having faith in a man to love me back, than I still had something left to offer someone. I still had the experience of falling in love, without red flags or hesitations, to look forward to. The kind of love that isn’t about high school romance, or expectations set in motion by the movies.
Step 3 was and is all about admitting what I want. And to some extent forgiving myself for getting my wants and needs confused in the past. Everyone makes mistakes, or so I hear, I just want my life now to be so overwhelming (in a good way) the other pieces from the past begin to fall away. And to not tell too much here, I think I am lucky enough to be starting to know step 3 recently.
Lately everything has changed. Time can move quickly and unexpectedly like that, until it feels like all you did was blink and your heart was in a new place. And at first this new feeling, the change, scared the shit out of me (pardon the language). Until I noticed I had gained one other thing. In addition to the self understanding, and love priorities, I had another new quality.
Faith. Most importantly faith in my feelings, but also someone to have faith in me.
Will it last? Will there even be love? I don’t know if I can share those answers beyond saying Yes.
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