Falling In And Out Of Love With Someone
When you met me, did you know you would love me and then hate me? Did you know that you would be popping the zits on my back and meeting my family and friends and watching me fall down drunk at three in the morning?
Did ya, did ya, did ya?
Does anyone ever know what they’re getting themselves into when they agree to love someone, when they agree to adopt a human heart and make it part of theirs? We never seem to read the fine print, we never seem to visualize the beginnings and endings of these romances. Love is a big fat middle.
Here’s a visual you don’t think about when you’re climaxing inside of someone: ignoring their texts four months later, running away from them as fast as you can, destroying the evidence that the love was ever there.
Here’s another visual for you: laying in bed together at 5:30 a.m. and accidentally making love. You know what I mean by accidental. A rub here, a rub there, all of a sudden you’re committed to having sex. The sun is starting to peak through the windows and you’re half-asleep, you’re bleary-eyed but oh my god, it all feels so good. Oh my god, you’re almost there. You think you’re in love.
Until you’re not. Until your heart decides otherwise and you get dragged along for the remainder of the ride. “Let me off, let me off!” Nope, you’re your heart’s bitch now. It’s done when it says it’s done.
I’m interested in the switch, in the change that occurs between two people that makes them go from “I love you, I need you, oh baby, oh baby” to “I’m unfollowing your ass on Twitter.” How, who, what, when, why? If someone is your everything, the only guarantee you have is that they’ll one day be your nothing. For a little while, at least. Until the dust settles, until they stop caring so much about you which is its own death in a way. Sometimes hating someone is your way of keeping them alive. It brings you comfort. It indicates a passion of a different kind.
What’s your limit? How many dead lovers can you keep packed inside of your heart? When do you stop loving and running? There must be an end to all of it. There must be a point where your own heart stops betraying you.
Meet someone, love someone, leave someone. Feel things, stop feeling them. Screw or get screwed.
Tell someone your darkest secrets and then learn to hide everything from them. Have your protector become someone you need to be protected from.
Fall in and out of love. Rinse and repeat. Remember all of the highs and lows and surround yourself with the memories. They serve as reminders that you were once loved. They remind you, good or bad, that you’re worth loving.
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7. Visiting the beautiful Milwaukee Art Museum.
Bonus points if you actually use different voices/accents for the different people in the imaginary conversation. That is a prestigious level of shower insanity.
I had a number of other essays I wanted to write tonight. There were other topics that deserved attention, essays I humbly felt might shed light on the human condition, on the difficulties and odd experiences we all deal with on a daily basis. But here I am, writing a defense of pubic hair.
6. The Usual Suspects