I don’t think I believe in love anymore. Not true love. The kind Carrie Bradshaw described as, “Real love. Ridiculous, inconvenient, consuming, can't-live-without-each-other love.” Why? Because yet another girl has gotten engaged and during the same weekend that her Prince Charming (barf) proposed, he slept with a friend of mine after a party. Honestly. Why bother, man? That girl is prancing around showing off her ring to everyone under the sun. She’s running to the nearest kiosk to buy every single wedding magazine off the shelves and telling all her friends with tears of happiness in her eyes. And he is dick deep in another girl…who is quite obviously not his fiancé. Disgusting.
I know you’re thinking this isn’t the norm, but that’s the problem: it actually is these days. This isn’t the first story I’ve heard about this piece of crap out there masquerading as love. And I’m not naïve as to think that love is perfect because I’m well aware that it is not. I’m just wondering what happened to the artist formerly known as the L-word.
My parents divorced when I was in middle school. They were married for twenty years before my mom finally decided that my dad should go ahead and be the bachelor he was already pretending to be. I grew up in a perfectly divorced household, though, with love all around. I set my sights on one day finding the love of my life and knew without a doubt that it would come my way. Movies depicted that love was romantic and perfect, while television told me any relationship could be mended by the third commercial break.
I met Jordan when I was 9 years old and I swear I was in love with him from that first day I walked into the fourth grade. He soon became my best friend, a fixture in our house as he gobbled up snacks while he regaled my mom with stories from school and teased my sister. He was one of us. High school came and suddenly Jordan was looking at me the way I’d always wished he would. But Jordan had a girlfriend. Elyse. Elyse was my friend. Elyse was still my friend as Jordan and I started making out in the same house where we played scrabble and ate pizza with my family before we even knew what hormones were. Before I could even blink, everyone somehow found out and everything was ruined. Jordan didn’t defend me, as everyone always blames the female in these situations, and just like that, my heart was broken for the first time. Ugh, that kinda pain should be bottled up and sold to your worst enemies.
After Jordan, I dated a slew of guys- all proving to be somewhere between average and dicks. I would love to say that it was smooth sailing after Jordan, but it wasn’t. One after another either got on my nerves or just fizzled. Then I met Robert, who was my boyfriend off and on for almost seven years. The man to whom I was betrothed I suppose. There was a time where I knew he was the one, but then I was constantly reminded of what forever would be like with him and he was gone. There were others that seemed like love, but must’ve been something else because they are not here nor are they getting mentioned specifically. I just don’t feel like rehashing the guys that came and went.
So maybe you’re reading this thinking, “Oh, well of course she doesn’t believe in love. She’s jaded.” Nope, that’s not it either. I still believed in love through every failed relationship-both mine and those around me. This “love is bullshit” feeling didn’t come until several months ago when a guy named Aaron managed to show me exactly what it felt like to be swept off my feet and then placed back down on the ground as if nothing had ever happened. And honestly, nothing really happened. It just sort of began and ended. So I thought to myself: “Self, love is one of those weird things that happens sometimes and while you look forward to it, you don’t necessarily need it and you can easily forget what it even feels or looks like.” It just sort of is. Take it or leave it. I didn’t feel like bothering, so I left it. And here I am, not even remotely phased by the people around me falling in and out of love. Yay for them, but I suspect it won’t last. My best friend from high school was married and divorced before I even received the “thank you for the flatware” card.
It just seems like such an illusion. People change all the time. They fall in and out of love. They’re impatient and don’t want to deal with who’s in front of them, so they move on to greener pastures, which eventually turn brown just the same. I guess I’m a pessimist or maybe I’m a realist. But when Carrie pleaded those words, she ended up with Big, who left her at the altar…I mean he eventually came back, but how many people wouldn’t just throw themselves over the Brooklyn Bridge after such a debacle. People have done it for less. All in the name of love. Besides there supposedly a sequel coming. Something tells me we’re in for yet another imposter running around posing as love. Here’s hoping, Carrie.
I know you’re thinking this isn’t the norm, but that’s the problem: it actually is these days. This isn’t the first story I’ve heard about this piece of crap out there masquerading as love. And I’m not naïve as to think that love is perfect because I’m well aware that it is not. I’m just wondering what happened to the artist formerly known as the L-word.
My parents divorced when I was in middle school. They were married for twenty years before my mom finally decided that my dad should go ahead and be the bachelor he was already pretending to be. I grew up in a perfectly divorced household, though, with love all around. I set my sights on one day finding the love of my life and knew without a doubt that it would come my way. Movies depicted that love was romantic and perfect, while television told me any relationship could be mended by the third commercial break.
I met Jordan when I was 9 years old and I swear I was in love with him from that first day I walked into the fourth grade. He soon became my best friend, a fixture in our house as he gobbled up snacks while he regaled my mom with stories from school and teased my sister. He was one of us. High school came and suddenly Jordan was looking at me the way I’d always wished he would. But Jordan had a girlfriend. Elyse. Elyse was my friend. Elyse was still my friend as Jordan and I started making out in the same house where we played scrabble and ate pizza with my family before we even knew what hormones were. Before I could even blink, everyone somehow found out and everything was ruined. Jordan didn’t defend me, as everyone always blames the female in these situations, and just like that, my heart was broken for the first time. Ugh, that kinda pain should be bottled up and sold to your worst enemies.
After Jordan, I dated a slew of guys- all proving to be somewhere between average and dicks. I would love to say that it was smooth sailing after Jordan, but it wasn’t. One after another either got on my nerves or just fizzled. Then I met Robert, who was my boyfriend off and on for almost seven years. The man to whom I was betrothed I suppose. There was a time where I knew he was the one, but then I was constantly reminded of what forever would be like with him and he was gone. There were others that seemed like love, but must’ve been something else because they are not here nor are they getting mentioned specifically. I just don’t feel like rehashing the guys that came and went.
So maybe you’re reading this thinking, “Oh, well of course she doesn’t believe in love. She’s jaded.” Nope, that’s not it either. I still believed in love through every failed relationship-both mine and those around me. This “love is bullshit” feeling didn’t come until several months ago when a guy named Aaron managed to show me exactly what it felt like to be swept off my feet and then placed back down on the ground as if nothing had ever happened. And honestly, nothing really happened. It just sort of began and ended. So I thought to myself: “Self, love is one of those weird things that happens sometimes and while you look forward to it, you don’t necessarily need it and you can easily forget what it even feels or looks like.” It just sort of is. Take it or leave it. I didn’t feel like bothering, so I left it. And here I am, not even remotely phased by the people around me falling in and out of love. Yay for them, but I suspect it won’t last. My best friend from high school was married and divorced before I even received the “thank you for the flatware” card.
It just seems like such an illusion. People change all the time. They fall in and out of love. They’re impatient and don’t want to deal with who’s in front of them, so they move on to greener pastures, which eventually turn brown just the same. I guess I’m a pessimist or maybe I’m a realist. But when Carrie pleaded those words, she ended up with Big, who left her at the altar…I mean he eventually came back, but how many people wouldn’t just throw themselves over the Brooklyn Bridge after such a debacle. People have done it for less. All in the name of love. Besides there supposedly a sequel coming. Something tells me we’re in for yet another imposter running around posing as love. Here’s hoping, Carrie.
That bitch stole my line,
xoxo
Blackie Collins
This is a great post. I love it,....so insightful and so true.
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