I'm probably not the first one to ask this, but really, what the fuck is love?
We all want it? Teenage fantasy? Maybe Jorja Smith was right.
I used to have DREAMS about love. I had this recurring dream of a man who would DIE unless I promised to marry him. I don't doubt it exists, love and all. I'm just doubting its quality. Maybe I've experienced too much second-hand romantic love already and I'm burnt out? My best friends have been in loving relationships, and I've been at the front lines. I don't say this with jealousy, once upon a time I'd have said it with jealousy, but now I say it from a comfortably numb distance.
Maybe I've also second-experienced too many breakups to actually believe that love is amazing?
I'm "seeing" this guy right now. A more accurate term would be, I am hooking up/hanging out with this guy right now. Sometimes while I'm laying next to him or staring into his eyes as we're having sex, I wonder, so how would "love" make this arrangement different?
People who engage in hook up culture are all too familiar with the performance - the heart and mind tricking performance of a relationship without the substance. Here's where I go on a tangent to elaborate on the performance - what my friend aptly terms "body canvas friction".
Today I spent almost the whole day at his place, longer than I usually stay with someone. Usually I wouldn't even be acquaintances with the men I have sex with. Here are generalised reductive one-word descriptions of the men I've hooked up with in the past (I'm actually referring to a list of their names and giving each a descriptor): confusing/mean, strange/odd, VERY odd/immoral, loving (anomaly), paranoid, odd, aggressive, inconsiderate, inexperienced, unassuming, emotionally-unavailable, confusing, nice, empty, poser-y, inexperienced.
That was actually quite fun hahah. Don't get me wrong, I'm not shitting on any of them, I was (almost) fully aware of what I was getting myself into. I had set my expectations extremely low because I realised we don't get what we imagine, even when we try to settled for second best.
Time spent with these men exists in another dimension. They are not productive hours, they are not accountable hours, they are (arguably) not meaningful hours. For some reason, memory fails you. What was the colour of the pillow you were lying down on as you so "lovingly" caressed unfamiliar nooks and bends of skin as if they were your own. Hooking up is not as wham-bam-thank you-ma'am as it is purported to be. It can be so tender and it can be so loving. But you must remind yourself that it is not real - which is often very easy to do, because once they open their mouths, the illusion is usually shattered.
What I have now is definitely an anomaly. A glitch in my sex matrix.
A man who's company I enjoy, with and without sex. An example: today I pretended to be a chaiwala with him. Not trying to immortalise this as some tender, perfect moment. Just elaborating on the glitchiness.
So how would love make this any different? How would love make this feel better? Would it offer me some unshakeable security and comfort? I can't fathom it.
For now, at this point of my life, I am content. It's like going over to a friend's house and playing with their pet, but never actually buying your own pet. You don't have to deal with cleaning shit and pee (except for the occasional accidents - yeah that's right, this analogy is getting even more real). I get to play relationship and then I get my alone time - time that I use to figure myself out, chat up other random fellas, hang out with pals, or make things.
It's so weird. I feel like I spent too much time at his place. As if there is a precise amount of time I can spend there before things start to get murky, confusing - I start to question an apathetic touch or a disinterested stare.
So yeah, what is love? Is it better than oscillating between single and performative sex/relationship?
Or am I just getting too used to this.
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