You know, I’ve never exactly been one to “love” love. I just find it cliché and overplayed. It’s like a bad 80s song that somehow always gets stuck in your head.
I mean, I suppose I should explain, because I’m positive that saying “oh I hate love” is a) wrong b) a little too blunt for what I’m trying to portray.
I do not dislike love.
Let me explain again.
I do not dislike love.
I just know that I’ve had some unfortunate experiences with love and I know that I’m very skeptical of what I consider love. I’ve had a few experiences that I’ve had to think and rethink time and time again.
I guess when it all comes down to it, love is not something you can sum up with a neat little bow. Love is…I wouldn’t say universal. It’s different to every single person. Personally, I don’t love the early stages of being in a relationship with someone…
- The constant need to say “but I love him/her”
- The clinginess
- The “butterflies in the stomach”
- The letting your heart rule your head.
I just don’t. It’s uncomfortable and foreign to me. I don’t believe I truly love or am in love with someone unless I’m entirely comfortable with them. It’s kind of like being on a constant rollercoaster, or how I see it anyway. Being able to descend into some pitfalls only to rise up again to the peaks. I suppose that’s what love is. But, for the most part, I don’t exactly follow my gender with the entire obsession with love. I can’t doodle hearts everywhere (unless I’m mind-numbingly bored, and in that case, the hearts don’t symbolize anything). I can’t exactly sit there and watch a romantic film and go “I wish that were me -heavy sigh-” because, for the most part, I don’t wish that were me. Most romantic films make me nervous. I can’t cope with the idea that this couple randomly fell madly, passionately in love.
Love is a process. A long one.
I usually can’t buy it. But, that doesn’t mean that I’ve never wished I were the girl in the film being swept off her feet by the romantic and loving guy. I do have some feelings.
I have fallen in love before and maybe that’s where I derived most of my cynicism. I just don’t like love. I don’t like clinginess. It honestly only leads to a downfall in the end.
I guess that’s where I’m meant to talk about intensity.
When I fell in love, it was the most sudden and unexpected thing to ever happen in my life.
Upon first knowing the guy, I knew I would want nothing to do with him. We didn’t have much in common (apart from being burned a few too many times and being broken in more ways than one). He was not my ideal “mate”, but regardless I fell. It was intense. More intense than anything I ever knew. I had all those precursors of falling in love before I even knew I was officially in love. I’m talking butterflies in the stomach, the lot.
For eleven months, I watched as he fell in love with different people (seemingly, the wrong person). I sat there and listened to him when he lied and when he cried and when he laughed. I fell even deeper and deeper in love.
After a while, I started to grow tired of the game he would play. It was cat and mouse, he and I. He was always hiding from me, but would come out to taunt me.
I gave up. Not too long ago. and perhaps some may think I’m still bitter, and I will fully admit that a part of me still is. However, I think by now I’ve realized how different everything was. I don’t plan on making the same mistakes again, at all. He kind of broke a part of me. Probably the part I needed most, but I shall overcome. Someday.
Love is an intense thing.
I might even call it an intense game.