Soliloquoy on Love

I was so glad to get off from work yesterday.  It wasn’t particularly busy, it’s just that I was so tired of standing and was kind of exhausted from staying out all night at Tykeisha’s party and then later with my friend.  Neither one of us can shut up.  We’re always so engaged in our conversation, and we talk about everything under the sun.  I’m not complaining, because there’s a rare few people in the world who have such connection with an individual where they can have a no holds barred conversation like we do.

At any rate, last night, when I got home, I had no intention of calling him because I knew that we would be on the phone all night and I’d never get any sleep, but as I got ready for bed, I thought, “Well, I can’t just go to sleep without saying good night.”  For the past month, we have had some deep discussions before falling asleep whether I was at his house, he was at mine, or we were on the phone.  I said, “Just say good night,” and of course, it turned into this very real conversation about love and relationships, men and women.  I told him it was going to be food for thought after we hang up, and I would be laying in bed on my way to sleep, and I would be thinking about everything we had said to one another. 

We spoke in general, not of what we want for each other or from each other, although, if I dare to assume our general preferences could be an underlying foundation of what we’d want from each other, should it go that far. 

I told him that I had trouble believing in the notion of love.  What is it really?  I look to my own experiences and know that where I thought I was in love, it was not love.  I thought I was in love with You-Know-Who, but I think I was really in love with the idea of being in love.  Everyone wants that movie-type romance, where everything always works out in the end, and that whole situation was so dramatic that I really think I could write a screenplay on it, and it would sell.  So many people have similar ‘love’ stories to tell that everyone can relate. 

I thought I was in love with John, and really, I was just worried about being by myself.  I was just really starting to grow up from the situation with You-Know-Who.  I was just really starting to grow up, in general.  I look back and think to myself, “Oh, I was so young.” 

I wasn’t in love with Michael, my first serious boyfriend.  That was all fun and games, just trying to figure out what this boyfriend/girlfriend thing was all about.  More like an educational experience than anything else. 

There’s been a handful of others, and I damn sure wasn’t in love with any of them.  I didn’t even try to fool myself and pretend that I was.  So, if I really look at it, have I ever really been in love?  What is love?

My friend tells me there is a difference in being in love and loving someone.  I am inclined to agree.  I think I can say that I have loved someone, but you love a puppy, your little sister, and your favourite pair of shoes.  So what is that?

I don’t know what love is, but I know what I want from a man, and I mean a man that I would spend any amount of time with, share all my secrets with, or try to build something with.  When I get involved with someone, unless I am purposely thinking “just for fun,” (and that has been rare) I always look ahead to long term.  I was never really the type of girl who just hooks up with different guys for fun.  I think it works for some women, but it doesn’t work for me.  That’s why I date so many guys, because I always get rid of them so quickly.  I can see straight away, “Oh, no, this ain’t gonna work.” 

I don’t see me at 30 years old still dating, still playing a young man’s game and losing, because that is what dating is to me, a young man’s game.  These young fools I’ve run around with.  God, I can write a book, and in fact, I just might.  I have been on so many crazy dates with different guys.  A person can laugh themselves stupid if I told even half the stories of some of the dates I’ve been on.  And when I say dating, I don’t mean, I’m sleeping with them, I mean dating in that old-fashioned sense of the word.  Going out, spending some time, dinner, movies, dancing, the club, whatever.  I’ve had good dates with bad boys, and bad dates with good men.  Group dates.  Play dates.  Speed dating.  Just for fun.  We’re just friends.  Whatever.  You name it, I’ve done it. 

Older, more mature men (unless they have problems) are looking for something more serious.  Who wants to be 33 years old still dating?  Who wants to be constantly putting a guy/girl through that application process we all do when we first meet someone?  That is so tiring, and these days not even worth the effort.  I’m not trying to say I want to get married, but if I had that one guy to work with, share with, have fun with, and grow with, I think that makes all the difference in the world.

I say again, I don’t know anything about love.  I think I am even scared to tell someone I love them.  I’m even too scared to tell someone I think I love them.  I have a hard time telling someone how I feel about them.  It’s just not in me, and I think one day it’s going to get me into trouble.  But that’s a story for another day.

Last night, after I got off the phone with him, I thought about the One-That-Almost-Got-Away.  He hasn’t got away yet.  I almost messed it up.  But like we established last night, God works in mysterious ways.  We never know His plan, and it’s not for us to question Him.  This one, the one I’m speaking of, it wasn’t right the first time around.  But now… things are different.  My friend may not have understood last night what I was telling him when I explained about this One-That-Could-Have-Got-Away, but he’ll think about it one day. The realisation will be slow, but it will come nonetheless.  And it will all be in the open.

I don’t know a thing about love, I say one last time.  But I know a good man when I see one.

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