Love is no Option

Human beings drink water and breathe air. Technically, those are the main things we need for living. Well, add to that nutrition of some sort. And, by no means have I dismissed the fact that many around the world struggle to even have those primitive aspects of life. Then again, for all of my adult life the matters of heart seem to have been amongst the top two of everyone’s concerns, and most importantly, the matter that implies glee.

 Why is love such a hard proposition?

In all honesty, I really don’t know the answer to that question and I’m not sure if there is “an answer”. The span of answers to that question might be as great as half of the population of the world. And for the record I, as the person who sits in an after-work Irish dump in freaking Mountain View and drinks Jameson on a Valentine’s Day, should be the last person who could have any prophecy in that matter. But heck, you’re reading my blog, I might as well share some viewpoints.

Love is meticulous, in that it demands perfection form a bunch of imperfect creatures. It is the meticulousness that makes people analyze emotional relationship to no end. At times, one side blames another for not understanding their positions and expectations because there is a proclivity to develop hope for an uncertain future.

At times, we say we can’t stand drama and that all we want is a stable relationship with someone who loves and treats us well, but for some of us “stable” have hardly the appeal of “exciting”. At times, our status as single, independent, financially solvent has us sitting on a mountain of exceptional options. Options are exciting. So we want all the options. But having “options” is a cop-out for having nothing else, no interests, no commitments, and no values. Narcissism is not the quintessence of interest in any romantic or especially matrimonial connection to anyone worthy of a mature relationship.

One of my best friends with whom I used to discuss these things very frequently busted out of this endless circle and married to someone who had the main attributes of what he desired, and he was ready to forgive the rest of what he didn’t get. I wasn’t ready to forgive anything. Now he’s happily married with a beautiful baby girl and two dogs taking black and white anniversary pictures on snowy roads. I don’t even have a cat, but I have options.

Evolution is a lusty mistress. The human beings were original designed to live for 45-55 years. The clever animals that we are we screwed the game by tamping down infectious diseases and copiously swelling our food supply to live longer. We haven’t even begun to evolve into the world we created. Wait a bit longer, and you see that our qualification for someone’s idea of lifetime commitment will vanish altogether. In that case, having ‘options’ gets closer to the truth.

And of course in the end, you always find those shallow, coldly judgmental, obsessed with status, and unforgiving about any imperfections. You always find those who are angry and you represent everyone they have dated to that point. Before you chew the first piece of steak at a restaurant you’re the cheater, user, liar and irresponsible mate they’ve hated. That’d make you subject to many stupid tests they’ve read in relationship-for-dummies. Others have lived the party life and finally decide to settle down when you realize that settle means they’ll settle for you.

All of that shouldn’t irk you because if you are not alone, you have a different set of options. Yes, I assert there is something wrong with sampling liberally from the buffet. It reinforces what is already the problem for serial daters, both men and women. It’s not that you don’t know what you want. It’s that you only love yourselves. “To get the full value of joy you must have someone to divide it with.”

 True! Love is not as sacred as it once was. Still, it is the most sacred thing I know.

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