What most people don’t know about me is that I like to fall in love. I fall in love easily. It could be a man, a food, a new yoga style, a new-fangled way of painting my toenails. I guess I sound fickle, that I get wholly obsessed about something, that it can obscure everything else. It reminds me of what the Germans call an earworm, a song that you just can’t get out of your head.
For me, love is an obsession, an addiction. And like all addictions, it is not good for me.
Perhaps I should rephrase, it’s not that “love” is bad per se, rather how I use it. With the addictive personality that I have, I know I have to be mindful, whether it’s love, food, or anything else that I like a little too much.
For me, “falling” into anything is never a good idea. Falling implies an inherent lack of mindfulness. And when I enter into something with my eyes open, the dopamine hits aren’t quite as plentiful, but it’s real (real and scary, but that’s a story for another day).
You see, the reason I like to fall in love is because I see only good qualities in that person, and they mirror back to me my best self. Of course, this is not real (but neither are TV soaps or what we see on social media, but I digress).
Perhaps I should return to the Rumi quote that I started the original piece off with: your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself you have built against it.
So, this time around, rather than being dazzled on the dating scene, I choose to consciously heal my various childhood/divorce/you-name-it wounds, so that I can accept the love that my partner may want to offer me.
And learn how to unconditionally give, the love I that have for him.
(Oh, and then there’s the whole issue of staying put, when our whole culture is built around novelty.)
So while truly, madly, deeply has a place, I’m painfully aware that it doesn’t last. There is much more that makes a lasting relationship, whether it’s with a boy, a hairdo or a nail colour.
But rather than butterflies, it makes my stomach go all squirmy. This isn’t the happily ever after I read about. I want my money back.
And then I have to remind myself that I’m not looking to get on a rollercoaster, I’m looking for a grand adventure. And for that, I’m looking for someone I can “steal horses with”, as the Germans would say - a veritable partner-in-crime.
And with that, eyes wide open, I’m off to buy a balaclava, and see what escapades await.
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