Everything I Ever Need To Know About Love I Learned From Social Anxiety.
I am currently writing the first draft of this post on the coffee table of my bother-in-law’s parent’s house in the Great Smokey Mountains of North Carolina. With all of this majestic beauty going on around me I decided to camp out inside where it’s nice and dark and carpeted.
People become very curious when you sit down to write with a pen and paper. “What’cha writing about?” they ask over and over and many times over and over again. When you do decide to respond, something short like “your eulogy” usually shuts them up. Leave a girl alone! I’ve finally got some time during my vacation to write useless crap. GAH!
I’d like to bring back the cynicism of this whateveritis with a post about love. Yes. Y’all didn’t see that coming. Lets talk about it, shall we? What is it, exactly? And how do you know when you have it—or, are in it? Sounds confining. Possibly dark…and damp.
Perhaps we can look at past loves and decide. I was positive I was in love with my 7th grade boyfriend who used to translate telenovelas over the phone for me while I did my homework.
Okay she says that she knows that baby isn’t actually his. He looks shocked. He says how did you find out. She says because the baby is actually hers. And….that..the father is a…maccaw? Something about a, ah don’t know. What did you eat for lunch today?
He sure was sweet. And…weird. Who does that? He was cute though.
Anyway. I told that weirdo I loved him probably 3,000 times in the 3 weeks that we were holding hands on the way to the bus lanes. Now that I’m older I have a lot of reservations about the word in general. How does anyone define love, really?
The closest definition I can think of for love is when you start dating someone that you like, and every time you hang out you feel like you might throw up for the first 15 minutes or so because you’re so nervous. Then that first time that you feel comfortable enough around the person to not feel physically ill, then…Love! That’s what it is. Certainly. Or at least that’s the start of it.
Or when you stop thinking about the best possible way to lay on the couch with someone so that you don’t give yourself a double chin. And how to cross your legs. And swallow.
Love might be when you offer to pop a back-zit for your person-of-interest and they say “sure, yeah have at it” and then you say “fucking gross no. I was kidding. But you were going to let me do it? Aww…”
Actually, love is when you’re a dust bunny behind the TV and you meet a Swiffer for the first time. And you finally know what it’s like to be touched. Truly touched. And you never want it to end. Then you get thrown in the trash. Something like that.
Anyway, I wasn’t trying to come up with a definition, really. It’s just something I’ve been thinking about because it seems like that time of the year again for everyone to start pairing up and preparing for the cold winter with some extra body heat in the bed. Have you noticed that a lot of people seem to get together in the Fall and Winter and then break up in the Summer? I don’t fucking blame them. Try and touch me when it’s 102 degrees out and I can literally feel sweat dripping between my tits, try me. Go ahead and see if you don’t get broken up with in less than 15 minutes.
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