Love and all that jazz

It’s seemed to me recently as though I can’t turn around without running into another description of love… of someone being in love, of someone looking for the love of their life, or just a movie centered around the premise of two people finding each other. And right now, I’m tired of it. I don’t know why, exactly, I feel this way right now. When my friends write to me of the romantic ups and downs in their lives, I’m happy (or sad, or angry, as appropriate) for them, but I also find it hard to be immersed in it. Everyone is so obsessed with the idea that love makes the world go round and if you don’t find the love of your life, you’ll have only half-lived your life. “Dying alone” seems to be everyone’s greatest fear, but… don’t we all, when it comes down to it, die alone? I mean, the instances of dying with your loved one are rare enough to make headlines. Sure, I don’t like to be lonely, but you can be just as lonely–or more so–when you’re with someone in a relationship.

Maybe this is partially just a pendulum-swing from the way I’ve lived my life up until now. I had crushes on boys from first grade on–indeed, I had a “boyfriend” in preschool–and spent my teens and twenties in a love-obsessed frenzy of worry that I would never “find someone”. But as of the past year or so, I’m starting to realize that maybe, if I never do find someone, at least not the one who sticks, that will be OK too. I mean, not everyone discovers their One True Love. I bet the vast majority of people just found someone to love.

I’ve been there, in love, and I’ve got to say that I don’t like myself when I’m there. I get ditzy and flighty and can’t think straight, and my whole life revolves around what the guy is going to think of me and what can I do to make him happy and… I lose all sense of self in it. At least that’s a temporary phenomenon, that loss of self in the rush of first infatuation, but when you have one impermanent relationship after another (whether by your own choice or not), you end up spending a lot more time in that “blissed-out” state or, worse, in the rather horrible “does he like me or doesn’t he and if he does, why doesn’t he say or do something more definite?” state that precedes the mutual high of reciprocated infatuation… It’s just tiring.

I like my life right now. Sure, it’s a little quiet and boring from time to time, but I’ve got goals and direction and things that keep me busy… I like where I live, I like that I can do what I want to when I want to, and I’m as near being content right now as I have ever been. Whenever I add a man into that equation, I end up feeling a lot less content, secure and stable. It can be good, but contemplating that kind of upheaval–even in an abstract sense–from beforehand makes it seem less than desirable.

Even my “comfort reading” old standbys, where girl meets boy, girl overcomes obstacles and marries boy eventually have failed me in this–what? cynical?–state of mind. Exhausted, maybe. World-weary. Ha! I sound like a callow youth affecting age and sophistication.

Truthfully, I don’t doubt that I’ll find someone else to be in love with, and probably sooner than later. However, at the moment, it just doesn’t sound like the most appealing option. How ’bout I leave that love stuff (for the moment, at least) to all you people who really want it right now??? I’ll get back on the bandwagon in a couple months…