While some of you might read the title of this post and roll your eyes in disgust or shake your head in disagreement, I’ll still stand by my decision on this guy called ‘love’.
Love is like a legal drug. Everyone is addicted to its intangible feeling. It’s what everyone wants, but very few (successfully) get. If you do get access to it, it costs a bloody bomb to acquire it; not financial money, of course not, but costing in terms of rejections, tears and a lot of struggle.
The love I have for humanity and all the wonderful people in my life is a hundred miles different from the relationship-with-a-guy kinda love. How, you ask? Well, would you marry your best friend who you grew up with since the age of 8? No. Exactly!
I am talking about life partner and relationship love, not the wonderful ones you get from parents, best friends and siblings. I am 100 percent in the game with the latter version, but the former has never visited my emotional abode.
That being one of the chief reasons I feel love is rubbish – I have never found it. I don’t know what the bastard means, how it feels or what you’re meant to do when you know what the hell it really is.
Hollywood movies comprehend the feeling to be a slow-motioned saga, while Bollywood movies make the bloody actors sing and dance on mountain tops. There is no mountain in Sydney, so I most certainly cannot do that. There goes my plan, errr! How am I meant to acquaint myself to that feeling?
The generic statement (usually from the ones who are already in love) goes something like this – “you’ll know it when it happens” or “it’ll find you when the time is right”. Err, how? Will bells ring? Will it start raining? Will dogs bark? Or will I feel butterflies in my tummy? I get that fluttery feeling when I am on a roller coaster – is that meant to be love? I think not, buddy.
Yes, I am as sceptical as one can be and I have all the reason to be. No, I haven’t been a recipient of an awful break-up (phew!), but I have also never been a recipient of that mushy apple-pie-cookie-crumble-honey-darling-pumpkin-mustard-cherry-ripe feeling.
Point is, just when you start believing in aliens and ghosts, I’ll start believing in love. How’s that for a deal?
Until then… loving my family, friends and work is enough for moi.
-End of rant-