Senseless Scribbling of an Idiot #23: What Is Love?

I had an email discussion with a friend of mine at work today. We were talking about love, romance and other matters of the heart. We had a slight difference of opinion on such intricate matters, but that is because we are looking for two different things. Our definitions of love are also quite different.
When women look for love, half the time they are not even sure what they are looking for. They flounder around blindly hoping to snare something they know not what. If they manage to get a bite, they’re not sure what to do with it because they aren’t sure if it’s what they really want. Then they try to define thing with an ever-changing, convoluted description. How is that helpful?
I told my friend about a previous lover–and I say lover because that’s all he was. He was never my boyfriend, my man, or anything like that. He wasn’t even good for me. I like to describe us as star-crossed lovers, two people who should have never gotten together but did anyway. We were a Romeo and Juliet, an Heloise and Abelard without all the suicide and death at the end.
I told her I know that I will never feel a crazy burning desire for any other guy like I did for him. There won’t be another man (good or bad) that would make me skip out of work so that we could fool around in the backseat of his car in the employee parking lot. I made up some thing I had to do, then marched back to work like nothing had even happened even though I’m sure a few people were well aware of what was going on.

I told her how we would sit up for hours every night talking about nothing at all. Sometimes we would share our hopes and dreams. Our goals were different, but it was nice to have someone to talk about it with. Have you ever had a dream but there was no one to share it with? You have a boyfriend or a best friend but you think they might not understand or might not even care. It wasn’t that way with us. We were from two different planets, the Montagues and the Capulets, but it didn’t even matter. One time, he told me how he went outside late at night after work and sat looking at the stars, dreaming of all the things in his head. I thought that was a romantic thing for a man to say and it wasn’t even directed at me.
He was not a great boyfriend, and he wasn’t even my boyfriend. He was a great lover, and I don’t mean that in a sexual sense. He was a great friend, and still is. That’s what I meant when I said I would never have another love like I had in him. That cannot be repeated.

I’m sure I’ll find a nice guy who thinks the world of me and he’ll treat me nicely, and we’ll live happily ever after, but it won’t even compare to those five minutes that he and I shared together a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away. This is the crazy type of love you experience when you’re young and stupid.
I do not believe that love can be found with a man “who takes care of me,” “takes care of my kids (the ones I don’t have),” “who treats me right,” or anything along those lines. I can take care of myself. I can take care of my kids (the ones that don’t exist). I can treat myself right (which is inherently the most important thing to do before you go looking for a man, but that’s for another blog). All those things are merely filling the empty space a woman cannot fill on her own.
Love is when you and your partner are on the same wavelength. You finish each other’s sentences. You laugh at the same stupid jokes. When you’re apart, he’s thinking about you and you’re thinking about him, then you try to call each other at the exact same time. You never have to say “I love you” because both of you already know it. You’re never afraid to expose yourself if you have to. You can be naked and vulnerable and he won’t take advantage of you. Love is when he can be equally naked and still be proud.
Love is when you’re both just laying in bed, not even talking, not making love, but the mood is just right. Love is against all odds. Love is the force, and the force has a lot of power. Love is so powerful that nothing else matters, not your kids, his kids, his mama’s kids, or the boss, or work, or anything else, not even sex. Love is total mental devotion to the other without reservation and without chains and without fear.
Whenever I figure out what I want to do with my life, I might decide to pay more attention to men. Then I’ll go looking for a lover, not a husband or a boyfriend. Husbands do dishes and take out the trash. Boyfriends buy dinner and tickets to the movies. Those things I can do for myself. Lovers love. You can’t do that on your own.


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