Take me to church
I do not believe in love at first sight. I am very picky.
How many times have I been in love? Twice, I suppose. Part of me wants to discount the first time- but I was, even if only for a little while.
What do I believe about love? Well, it's intoxicating. It's surely addictive. If it wasn't, we wouldn't do this to ourselves over and over.
One night I called a dear friend when it felt as though my heart had been ripped out of my chest.
"Lydia," he confessed, "Love is the most powerful drug I've ever been on."
What else do I think about love? Well, I don't believe in one true love. I think there comes a point in love where love becomes a choice. A lot of romantics find this thought troubling. But I'd say I'm romantic and realistic. A choice doesn't have to be un-romantic. It's just that after the honeymoon phase love requires effort, that's all. And that's not a bad thing.
Anyway, these are all the things I thought I knew about love. Until I met Jean.
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My hair is drenched when I finally arrive home. Sudden downpours have become a regular occurrence, so drowned rat has become my new signature style. No matter - I have no one to impress. The weather changes so fast here - last week it was 30 degrees. This week it's 15.
After throwing my hair into a ponytail I make my way outside to meet Jean. We make our way down the street, chatting about inane topics to begin, quickly finding the bar we're after and escaping the dark night for the dark solace of a whiskey lounge.
We talk for 3 hours. Or so.
And at some point it suddenly hits me. The most shocking and yet settling thought I've ever had.
I want to marry this man.
I am slightly alarmed by the intensity of this thought. I don't know this man. This is the first time we have spent one on one.
I've heard of people feeling like this. Feeling like this about the people they eventually go on to marry. Is this man the one? The One that I never believed in? If I ignore all of my thoughts about this now, will I go on to live some unfulfilled life while my soulmate is with another?
My brain is so calm while it processes all of this. I continue leaning in towards Jean, nodding as he tells me about a festival he went to once. It's like there's a separate voice in my head, some part of me I'm not in contact with. I want to marry this man.
But why? You don't even love him? You don't even like him. Not that you remember what it's like to be interested in someone. Why do you want to marry him?
It's as though my emotions are detached from the thought. My brain is matter of fact. I want to marry this man. My heart does not understand. How can I want to marry someone I do not love?
We laugh a while longer before we go our separate ways home.
How many times have I been in love? Twice, I suppose. Part of me wants to discount the first time- but I was, even if only for a little while.
What do I believe about love? Well, it's intoxicating. It's surely addictive. If it wasn't, we wouldn't do this to ourselves over and over.
One night I called a dear friend when it felt as though my heart had been ripped out of my chest.
"Lydia," he confessed, "Love is the most powerful drug I've ever been on."
What else do I think about love? Well, I don't believe in one true love. I think there comes a point in love where love becomes a choice. A lot of romantics find this thought troubling. But I'd say I'm romantic and realistic. A choice doesn't have to be un-romantic. It's just that after the honeymoon phase love requires effort, that's all. And that's not a bad thing.
Anyway, these are all the things I thought I knew about love. Until I met Jean.
-----------------
My hair is drenched when I finally arrive home. Sudden downpours have become a regular occurrence, so drowned rat has become my new signature style. No matter - I have no one to impress. The weather changes so fast here - last week it was 30 degrees. This week it's 15.
After throwing my hair into a ponytail I make my way outside to meet Jean. We make our way down the street, chatting about inane topics to begin, quickly finding the bar we're after and escaping the dark night for the dark solace of a whiskey lounge.
We talk for 3 hours. Or so.
And at some point it suddenly hits me. The most shocking and yet settling thought I've ever had.
I want to marry this man.
I am slightly alarmed by the intensity of this thought. I don't know this man. This is the first time we have spent one on one.
I've heard of people feeling like this. Feeling like this about the people they eventually go on to marry. Is this man the one? The One that I never believed in? If I ignore all of my thoughts about this now, will I go on to live some unfulfilled life while my soulmate is with another?
My brain is so calm while it processes all of this. I continue leaning in towards Jean, nodding as he tells me about a festival he went to once. It's like there's a separate voice in my head, some part of me I'm not in contact with. I want to marry this man.
But why? You don't even love him? You don't even like him. Not that you remember what it's like to be interested in someone. Why do you want to marry him?
It's as though my emotions are detached from the thought. My brain is matter of fact. I want to marry this man. My heart does not understand. How can I want to marry someone I do not love?
We laugh a while longer before we go our separate ways home.
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