Just read my friend's blog about love:
and thought, wow, I never would've thought about the love of my parents at that age. Which is one reason why I read her blog. She's so much saner than I ever was at that time in life. And the only love I ever really thought about was romantic; even then, not so much after my twenties. There was a line from a movie that impressed me so deeply when I was a teen that I lived accordingly; "The one thing a man can't resist is a woman who loves him." In the big picture, that may be true, but in practice it doesn't work. Which was proved to me several times in the 80s. As Depeche Mode sang, "There was a time when all on my mind was love. Now I find that most of the time, love's not enough, in itself."
One of my closest people has fallen madly in love. I'm trying hard to not be cynical but it's tough. She has been run through by Cupid's arrows more times than what killed St. Sebastian. Part of me wonders at her recuperative powers and willingness to keep going back for more. Part of me shakes my head and waits for the heartbreak. Because I've lost my faith in romantic love.
It didn't happen overnight by any means; it was a cumulative deal. Many bad men, bad relationships, poor choices over the years. Finally it became apparent that I'm very good at picking friends but not lovers. I tend to fall in love like I'd fall off a cliff- not seeing anything but the blur of my rushing feelings until suddenly hitting the ground with a hard crash. In short, I totally lose it. I loved falling in love, being in love, all the pining and obsessing, like a drunk loves a drink. I was even capable of being in love at, not with, someone! I was addicted to love (and oh how I hate that song). Now, it seems, I've broken the addiction and with it went my suspension of disbeliefs, the ones you need in order to make it happen at all.
Not that I'm not attracted to and don't flirt with guys anymore; that still goes on. But it's a game, a sham, a pastime. There's nothing more to it, no hoping that something comes of it or Mr. Right may appear. If anything I'm quite capable of blowing off any potentiality nearly immediately and without much thought. It's going to take a considerably determined man to turn my head at this point.
Perhaps that's not so bad. Perhaps it's just time that happens. Maybe if I'd not been such a junkie all those nasty men wouldn't have suckered me in. Whatever. But I need to stay mindful that just because love chewed me up and spat me out that doesn't mean it'll happen to others. I have every right to be cynical about my own love life but nobody else's.
And I do carry a hope, for her sake, that this will work out. I don't want her to become as distrustful and jaded as me.
Things go swimmingly for the lovebirds. I am addicted to watching Robert Plant's penis and the rest of him :
The Door Is Ajar.
4 days ago