Love…. An equal mixture of pleasure and pain. It is the Sun and the Moon, the day and the night, the light and the dark. It is the sunshine and the rain, the heat of summer and the bitter cold of winter, the sweet and the sour. We cannot have one without the other.
Without love our lives are so simple, we feel nothing. There is no risk, no joy, no sadness, no connection, no pleasure, no uncertainty. And yet we search for it, long for it, feel jealous of those around us who have found it, who have each other, who seem to flaunt if walking hand in hand on those Summer nights, hand in hand, the occasional glance which only they can understand, their secret language just for them, that bond between them like an invisible cord. But we are safe without it. We are free. We are in many ways truer versions of ourselves without it. We express ourselves freely and indulge in all the pleasures of the flesh without worry or care. There is no other heart to be hurt by our actions. We are sexual warriors manoeuvring ourselves from one bed to another, from one conquest to another, from one profile to another. And afterwards, once the pleasure of our ejaculation has subsided and we have said our goodbyes.. we are left feeling void, feeling empty, feeling the lack of that connection. How quickly we forget those names, all of those names and perhaps even faces. Lost in the mist of time. Forgettable. And then onto the next, and the next, and the next until we are sicken by our very lust, like eating too much chocolate cake, at first sweet and rich but eventually…. sickening.
And then one day it comes from nowhere, he comes from nowhere. This other heart. This other soul. This other mind. Our other half. This other version of ourselves standing in front of us like a mirror through which we see our very soul, our dreams, every desire in our heart reflected before us in one beautiful, perfect, radiant image. And we melt into them.. our heart burning with desire and passion and longing. Like a drug that we simply cannot do without. The very smell of their skin and their hair, their touch like magic, their kiss upon our lips the most perfect wine we could ever hope to taste that has been created just for us. In face every inch of their body seems to have be created by celestial beings just for us and we want to lose ourselves inside of them… forever.. never to be seen again. Our bodies entwined under those sheets wishing morning would never come and the night could last for an eternity in their arms, his body pressed against yours and his heart beating just for you….
Our words of love seem to flow from a hidden magical bubbling well inside of us, words we have never spoken to another, words we write… just for him. Just for his ears, for his heart, for his eyes, words spun from gold and silver threads in our heart, in the deepest recesses of ourselves.. just for him. My muse, my heart, my soul, my constant inspiration.. And his words, like a million kisses upon our skin, like rain falling on a hot summer’s day to cool and refresh us, like music, the sweetest most perfect notes falling into our ears. Paradise.. Perfection embodied in another human being. A thousand words.. A thousand hours of talk about nothing and everything. And we hold onto every word…
And then one day… Pain. Anguish.. Devastation.. Arguments.. All that beauty and perfection crumbles before our very eyes and our heart grows dark. We lose the virginity of our own imagination. And suddenly we see this angel, this vision of perfection, this ethereal being… as the man he is.. And suddenly we realise.. he is just like us, he is just like me.. His hair greys like mine, his skin grows older each day..like mine, his desire and insecurity, in fact his very masculinity which I adore and I find myself so drawn to causes him to make choices, to make mistakes, to tell lies, just like me, just like all of us.. because ultimately.. we are lovers, we are capable of such love, of such romance, of such feeling and passion, but alas we are men and the hearts and minds of men are dark and beautiful and complicated things.. We must accept this in order to love.. We must accept our own faults, our own imperfections, our own limitations and those of the one we love, and to love him regardless. For a world without love, without feeling, is like a canvas without paint, a dawn without sunrise, music without notes.. It is a void….
And so.. our illusions shattered, our romance novels cast aside, the movies portraying the agony of singledom and the elation of prince charming saving the heroine from her sad lonely life drawing to their inevitable Hollywood conclusions as the credits roll and we switch off our television screens and slide into bed, our dogs or cat curled up beside us, what message of hope can I write to send us off to sleep and ease our dreams…?
We are human. We need love just as we need to eat and sleep. Why else would the great poets and writers and artists and musicians of centuries past have dedicated their lives to the expression of love, the dutiful descriptions and interpretations of it’s beauty, of it’s depth, of it’s pain and it’s complexity? It is what drives us, what inspires us, what creates us. In order to smile at the sun we must also cry at the moon. Herein lies the paradox of our humanity and our emotions.. This is life, this is us… this is love….