“Love is the world’s infinite mutability; lies, hatred, murder even, are all knit up in it; it is the inevitable blossoming of its opposites, a magnificent rose smelling faintly of blood.”
– Tony Kushner, THE ILLUSION.
“This is a message to all the young women who have found their one and only.
This is a message to the girls who fell in love for the first time.
This is a message to those who believe in Love, because the reality of Love is far from what it really is.
A long term relationship is what we aspire to, because the myth of ‘soulmates’ have haunted us since we were young and stuffed with mediated representations of Love: two people ‘meant’ for each other. Yet, it is in a long term relationship that we learn, and we learn it the hard way: nothing in Real Love is ever like our Ideal idea of Love.”
I put down my pen, unable to continue. The ‘surreal’ aspect of Love has been written and rewritten so many times, that it has become hard to think of ‘Love’ as other than passionate and beautiful, or painful and merciless. How to describe the mundane numbness of raw love? The uninteresting days, the acknowledging but brief glances, the lack of things to do together.
The moments, no, hours of silence are the worst. It took me more than a while to get used to this new stage of the relationship. I secretly laugh at all those couples talking about, dreaming about moving together, with stars of fresh excitement in their eyes; those who hold hands as if it was going to be the end of the world are the most pitiful.
If you love someone, your greatest wish will be to live with them, but to live together will mean to integrate each other into each other’s daily routine. To the point that being in love becomes mundane.
“There is, in truth, nothing extraordinary about Real Love. Wake up, morning kiss, shower, food, and in a few your other will be going to their own thing, doing their own thing, thinking about their own thoughts. Two separate entities sharing the same bed, that is all it comes down to.”
“Hey, wanna go out for dinner?”
I quickly closed my notebook in which I had been writing a few moments ago and turned around to face the person I had decided to share my life with.
“Sure, what do you wanna eat?”
“How about pasta?”
“Alright, let’s go.”
A normal evening. Holding hands, but not as if the world was ending. Simply out of habit. Talking bits and pieces. Silence.
Real Love is peaceful. Disappointing to many dreamers. Boring.
Yet, Love it is.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction.
An Evil Nymph.