This is what you get for falling in love. You get to be obsessed,
slightly nauseous, like you’re on speed but better because the comedown
doesn’t happen for a long time. You get to have something or someone to
look forward to, something more than a new episode of your favorite TV
show on your DVR. You get to have the privilege of knowing someone
beyond their tweets or stupid, ridiculous Facebook. You get to know what
turns them off, what turns them on, what makes them yawn with
indifference. You get to know that their dad is an asshole and that
their mom was once sick with cancer and that things are sometimes
strained between them during the holidays but then they all get drunk
and it’s okay for a little awhile. You get to know someone beyond the
context of going out and getting drinks. You get to know someone at 2
o’clock in the afternoon on a Sunday when they look like shit and are
totally boring to be around. Like, they’re just watching TV and they
feel no pressure to entertain you. They’re just being who they are and
you’re there to witness it. It is dull but it’s also, in its own way, exhilarating.
You get to share your life with someone and invite them to
participate in the most arbitrary decisions of your life. “Chicken or
fish tonight?” “Vodka or gin?” “Doggie style or missionary? “Baby or no
baby?” You get to be inspired to be a better person, to be the type of
lover who knows how to really care for someone. You should want to
protect them from everything that’s bad. You don’t want to be the thing
they need to be protected from. No no, they’ve already had that, they’ve
already been burned. You want to be the best partner, an antidote to
all the other lackluster ones they might’ve had in the past.
You get to know that if you ever died alone in your apartment, your
body would be discovered shortly thereafter. It wouldn’t be left to
decay and ultimately be found by your landlord. You get to know that you
really affected someone’s life. You left an indelible mark. They will
never be the same after you. They will cry, cry, cry in your absence. It
all sounds so morbid but, I don’t know, it feels so nice knowing that
you have the ability to leave someone grief stricken once you’re gone.
You get to go on vacations and screw all day in some hotel room. You
get guaranteed sex, the kind of sex that you know and love and are
sometimes bored by but it’s okay because you love them and a little
boredom never hurt anybody, right? You get to drink too much at dinner
and have someone put you to bed. It’s better than passing out alone,
isn’t it? You get to see new things with a partner, revel in fresh
experiences together, Instagram photos of you two smiling near a
waterfall and be too in love to worry about being cool. Only single
people have time to care about maintaining the perfect internet persona.
You get to be a goddamn brat. You get to push the wrong buttons and
kick and scream, and trust that you won’t be penalized for it. You get
to test their patience away, run them against the wall, be an overall
insane crazy person, and still be forgiven.
You get to say no. You get to say yes. You get to say screw you. You get to be okay. You get to be safe. You get to be in love.
-TC
No comments:
Post a Comment