The problem with being a lifelong bachelor is that you fall in love too easily.

That's not an exact quote, but I've spent weeks trying to recall where I read it. I've glanced repeatedly at the list of books I've read since moving to Florida, and I've paged through several more books that I haven't yet read, thinking that maybe I came across that line while looking for something to tide me over, at least until I was able to bring myself to start Miguel de Cervantes' Don Quixote.

And then, the other day, I suddenly remembered where it came from (or at least what inspired it): Margaret Atwood's Bodily Harm.

I don't remember much about that book, other than Atwood's impressive evocation of the nineteen-eighties (I was born in 1981, so my memories of that decade don't really begin until six or seven years later), but I've spent so much time obsessing over that particular line, knowing that it carries a certain weight for me. The passage has a troubling and strangely illuminating truthfulness to it. Finally, I thought, an explanation for my admittedly superficial tendency to get attached to the women I've slept with.

I've never been in love with a particular person--at least not in the way that love is most often understood--so much as in love with lust. With hindsight comes introspection, if not clarity of vision, and lately I've been pondering past relationships--if I can bring myself to call them that--with blush-inducing embarrassment. Often, I'd sleep with a woman, only to find myself hopelessly infatuated with her. Lust, as facile as it may be, is a sort of love, I think, with its own power, with its own ability to start a tide of emotion that, at least for me, is all but impossible to ignore. I've always taken pride in my ability to wallow in a bleak cynicism that's made it relatively easy for me to ignore my own insecurities, but I'm beginning to realize that "emotional sarcasm," as I like to call it, can't hide the fact that I fall in love very easily.

Maybe consistent bachelorhood has a lot to do with it. Or maybe I've simply been replacing love with lust--an easy mistake. Several years ago, a good friend of mine told me, "You wear your heart on your sleeve." I was stunned at her assertion, not so much because of the statement itself, but because of her ability to read me so easily. She and I still keep in touch, through e-mail, phone calls, and, since I've been back in Florida, occasional visits to her place of employment. She's changed a bit over the years, at least on the surface: she no longer wears contacts that make her eyes green, she's more tan than I've ever seen her, and her hair, while no longer worn in the curly, unkempt Julia Roberts style that she knows I love, is darker--several weeks ago, she told me that she's actually a natural brunette. I like to think that she's changed for the better--of course, I'm biased--but I'm certain that she's still the same person that, to some degree, I fell in love with so many years ago.

Seeing her can be hard sometimes, and while I'm perfectly content to remain "just friends," my slowly-changing outlook is giving way to a sliver of hope.

Comments

[J.S. Peyton]

Your post kind of reminds me of what Jim Carrey says in the beginning of "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind." He says, "Why do I fall in love with every woman I see who shows me the least bit of attention?" And of course, he doesn't provide an answer.

[Brandon]

J.S.: That quote about sums it up for me! I've never seen "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind," but now I'll have to make a point of doing so.

[theorist]

It's a good film... but I have a thing for Mark Ruffalo so I'm biased.

By the way, you're now wearing your heart on your blog. You and I are the same age, but I've been married just about six years and this I've learned: Lust doesn't last. It flares up now and then and sometimes disappears entirely, while love ebbs and flows.

[Brandon]

Theorist: It's ironic, isn't it? I suppose this "wering my heart wherever" is something I'll never grow out of, but I've made my peace with that. And you're right, lust doesn't last. It's like a blaze, but sometimes I think I can still feel it when it comes to certain people. Or maybe it's just the memory of lust.

[Monkey]

I think then when you grow up you do realise that the lust you feel at the beginning is never sustainable. It means you need to end up with someone you truly like, are compatible with and effectively can see yourself 'growing old with'.

Inevitably, as much as we don't want to hear it - generally the person you end up with will become your best friend. In order to enter in to this relationship you therefore need to be satisfied that you've sowed all your oats, and that you will chose to respect them over making a decision to constantly chase the short term experience of lust.

Only then can you really experience true love. Which contrary to the movies, and as the past writer describes - ebbs and flows. People assume that in a relationship it'll be like the movies, always getting along, everything perfect. Life just isn't like that, and whilst perhaps 4% of the people we know may have met 'the one' and have it good - if you think of it, even in terms of your own friends - this is the exception not the rule.

True love is going through times where you don't even want to speak to your partner - and coming out the other side. I suppose that's why people attribute a long term relationship to 'effort' because you do have to work at things. Basically, as soon as something becomes familar and secure (as every good relationship should become) it also as the porpensity to become dull. You have to make the changes to keep it on its toes and make it work.

Its taken me a long time to realise this - and its also probably why people who marry young are far more likely not to end up together.

Its true though. x

[goldilox1]

Ahh, I like the last comment(by Monkey)on this one, Brandon.