Ok… I was having a discussion with my best friend (male) about love, and the usage of the term in a relationship. A caveat… I’ve never been the first one in a relationship to use the love word.
My friend and I both agreed that we think the term is overused, and generally used when people have no idea of what it means. Especially frustrating to me is that people seem to use it as punctuation - i.e., they end a phone call with “love you, bye”.
My general philosophy tends to be this.
I’ve said “I love you” to two people in my life. After the end of the relationships, I came to the conclusion that however deeply I felt for them, it was hardly love. I doubt that I’ve ever been in love. I’m not even sure what that means.
In my opinion, of course, it is possible to feel deeply for someone… but love? Love has to be rare to be real. True love, whatever the fuck that is, should be soul ripping - if that person ever leaves you, it should be impossible to recover. If you use the term love, you should use it only if you are certain that everything you’ve ever felt is moot in comparison to what you feel for this person, and that this feeling is not fleeting. Love should be forever, immutable, and unforgiving.
I think I will be very leary to tell someone I love them in the future, having uttered the words out of obligation in the past. Anyone care to weigh in with your definition of love?
Then, he left me and I eventually moved back to my home state. The same month I started taking classes towards an associates degree, he called me and told me he’d never stopped loving me. I hadn’t stopped loving him either so we started a long distance romance. He’d moved to a new state where he didn’t know anyone, and I asked him repeatedly if what he was feeling wasn’t just a longing for something familiar. He repeatedly told me that wasn’t the case, that it was true love. I believed him, in part because I wanted to. I flew out to his new state at Christmas. He proposed again after a perfect setup and again there was no question that I would say anything but, “Yes.” I did, however, want to get that degree first, which would take about another 2 years. We kept things going over the phone for a long while, but then he moved back to his home state and eventually the calls stopped coming. I can’t tell you when it ended; he never let me know. There isn’t one specific day my heart broke; it was more a gradual realization that he was gone, I’d never see him again, and this “wonderful, courageous” man hadn’t had the guts to tell me when it was over. I still remember the last time I saw him at security at the airport, feeling like every lover in every love story ever written. I still have a copy of the song he played right before he proposed the second time. It’s a good song, and at first, when I heard it, my heart would melt. Now, I sometimes feel a trace of anger and regret. We promised each other no matter what happened, even if by some bizarre twist of fate we stopped loving each other, we would always be friends and I’m sure he meant it as much as I did. I don’t even have that now.
He knows about my past and about the way I felt to that man a decade ago. He also knows that if that man were to turn up on my doorstep, with or without a Harley or roses, he’d be told it was too late. I am in love again. Given half a chance I’ll wax saccharine, so I’ll try to keep things in check. You see, the current man, too is honorable and more courageous than he’ll admit, although not quite as hairy. He has strength and stubbornness (necessary for any man who’d going to put up with me!), but he’s also kind and suprisingly romantic. I’m gunshy about the concept of “loving forever”; I’ve been telling myself that, if it ends tomorrow, what we’ve had so far will be enough. The thing is, neither one of us wants it to end or intends for it to do so. I won’t tell him my world revolves around him. I’ve learned that’s far too heavy a burden to place on another human being. I will and have told him my life is infinitely richer and better because he is in it. This hasn’t been an easy year for me. In January, my grandmother died, and in February, I contracted the flu so badly it still managed to keep me away from good Friday services last night for the first time in a decade. I mistrust dependence and, as I pointed out to him, I could have made it through these things alone. He pointed out to me, that, while he has no doubt I could, it is nice to have friends one can rely on and trust. He is that and more and, while too much time has passed to make an decent comparison, I do love him at least as much as I did the other man all those years ago, only the love I feel now is stronger, more stable, and more mature. I would not trade him for anyone, not even all the men in Mensa, and I assure you, there are some very good ones there, even if, like this place, we do have a few jerks.