Spoiler Alert!! I watched a chick flick and I'm hating the "L" word..
Ah... love. When two people are so perfectly suited for each other and they don't even see it until it's almost too late. That rush of emotion. That rush to find one another so they can profess their true feelings. That happily ever after. That, is movie love.
Real life love in my world, or as I like to call it "L", is more like, "Oh crap, what now?" We do not "L" in my presence. I do not "L" under any circumstances. When "L" enters the picture everything goes to hell in a hurry and it's just not worth the aftermath. When love enters my life it's more akin to the jarred food aisle in the grocery store. Sooner or later, someone is gonna drop the biggest jar of pickles off the top shelf and it will splatter and spread and leave sharp shards hidden where you can't see them but you'll sure know when you step on one. No one knows when or how far down the aisle it will happen, but it will happen, and the poor sap just trying to get by has to clean up the mess.
Hi. My name is Sap.
Real life love. Blech. I want the movie love. I want some nine time, shiny trophy winning writer to come up with the romance script of a life time and just hand it over. Along with the producer, director, supporting cast, a fabulous backdrop and a really great man who loves me until time stands still. A man who knows everything there is to know about me... all my quirks and irks. I want someone to know my favorite flavor lollipop or how to make my favorite sandwich or which side of the bed I sleep on and why. Is there anyone out there who knows what I'm most afraid of? What makes me laugh until I can't breathe? Where is the man who wants to know all of these things and more just because he wants to know? Where's my damn script???
I've been proposed to more times than Elizabeth Taylor. I've never been married. Not once. Not because I didn't want to be. I do... or, at least, I did. It's just that, I found that once a man knew he had me, once I accepted the proposal and the ring was on the finger, he stopped wanting me and wanted something or, more accurately, someone else. He just forgot to tell me there had been a change in plans. I had to find out in the most interesting ways that my script had been re-written and the leading lady had been replaced.
Do people ever find that movie love? I mean, do people ever fall in love and stay there in that emotional wave learning all the aspects of the other person? I'm pretty sure it's not all perfection if true love does exist, but, does it exist? Or is it only in the movies? If it exists, why hasn't it found me yet?
I was told I wouldn't find love just waiting for it to come to me. I had to go find it. So I went looking. What I found wasn't pretty. It belonged in a New York dumpster. Then I was told that if I wanted to find love I needed to just relax and wait, that it would come when I wasn't looking. So, I quit looking. What came along looked great in the beginning, but after a couple of years it resembled chum and started to have that same gut wrenching stench.
I decided that I badly needed a break from the whole "L" thing. I took what one of my friends calls a "man-cation." I completely stopped dating. For like 3 years. I even wore a wedding ring to keep men away. The farther away from me they stayed, the happier I was.
Then, one day seven years ago, I had a moment. It was one of those eye contact moments where the world disappears and it was just the two of us. My heartbeat quickened and my breath caught. Bubbles and rainbows. He serenaded me. Took me places and treated me like I was the most important person in the world. He proposed on the beach with dolphins playing in the water and we celebrated, having dinner in the mountains under the watchful eye of a coyote. It was magic. Bubbles and rainbows. Then. life came strolling by, popped my bubbles, smeared my rainbows and crapped on my happiness. He found someone else. I found out about her when he, get this, invited her to have dinner with us. Yes, I am dead serious. He proceeded to rob me blind and leave a stack of bills in my name. Obviously, this man didn't read the script.
Or maybe that really is my script. Maybe I've been type cast in the role of Perpetual Sap #1. The hopeful one always looking for love but never actually finding it. I guess someone has to play that part, but why? Why does anyone have to be PS#1? How about if everyone finds their true love and lives happily ever after? Get the writer on the horn, we're changing the last 3 scenes. What do you mean he won't answer?
Well, either I get a new writer or I quit. Scratch that. I just quit. Find someone else to play the part of PS#1. I'm tired and I no longer see the point. I don't want to be PS#1 any more. Find a new starlet and pop her love bubbles. I'm actually quite happy as long as I stay away from romance in all of it's deceptive forms. If romance writers were ever to ask me for my idea of a romantic evening, I'd have to say, for me it would be a large bowl of perfectly chilled chocolate pudding, all of the Pirates of the Caribbean movies, my most comfy sweats and my hair done up in a perfectly coiffed ponytail.
Now that, my friends, is my idea of the perfect evening. Movie love is overrated by teenage girls who have not lived the real lie. I'm well beyond those years of dreaming of love eternal and well into the years of loving my own space and not washing someone else's underwear. I'm beyond the years of compromise. I do what I want, when I want and I do it all without having to call anyone to let them know. I eat cereal for dinner and burritos for breakfast because I can. I control the remote.
I suppose I did find real life love. I just didn't find it in a man. I found it in myself. In learning to be a solo act. So, this is love, huh? I can deal with this.