Lately I’ve been thinking about love. More specifically, its existence. Obviously, I am not talking about the love you feel for your family or for a pet. But that head-over-heels, lasting for all time, can think of nothing else love.
Love is everywhere. In movies, on television shows and in the songs you hear on the radio. For someone who doesn’t have this love, and to be barraged with so much of it, you start to feel like something is wrong with you. Why don’t you have this love? How can you never have known it?
But I’ve been thinking, and I think that the reason there are so many songs, books and movies about great love is because they’re all looking for it too. No one has it. Which makes me wonder if it even exists at all.
Tonight I went out with a friend. She’s been having some problems with her boyfriend. He’s controlling and demanding and a lot of other things. They had an argument on the phone after we left the restaurant about how she was spending her time. They ended the phone conversation by saying, “I love you.” I was incredulous. I thought, “That’s not love!” (Which brought to mind a great quote from The Mexican, “That’s not right. I mean, there’s a right answer here, but that’s not it.”) Manipulation? Yes. Codependency? Yes. Love? Hell no.
I may not know for sure whether true love exists or not, but I know what it should be. Loving someone should mean wanting better for them than for yourself. It should mean doing something you may not want to do, simply because the result would make them happy or make a part of their life easier. It should mean thinking of them before thinking of yourself. You should wake up each day thinking, “My God, how did I get so lucky?” even after twenty years of marriage.
This is why you should never leave me to my own devices for too long. Thoughts like this start coming out. Next on the thought-agenda: “The Meaning of Life: I Ain’t No Hollaback Girl. No, I Ain’t No Hollaback Girl.”