What?

Love happens at like 450 degrees. It fucking burns, and it feels so good. You sit there wanting to stick your hand in the fire just to see how it feels, but you already know it’s going to burn your hand.  It’s going to hurt.  Should I stick my hand in there? 

Yeah, probably. 

What the hell kind of logic is that?  Because, ironically, you want to stick your hand in there.  You want to feel the hot proximity of love.  You want to be lit on fire with mind-numbing orgasms and stolen, soul-stroking kisses, and guilty, coy looks in front of your other people.  The desire is far more consuming than the love (if you’re doing it right), and then comes the honeymoon: watching-movies, laying-on-the-couch, making-love-all-day, making-meals-together, falling-asleep-together, waking-up-together, showering-together.  You like it.  Everything feels good.  Little things are important, and that flower by the bed when you woke up was totally unlike that person, but they did it because they like you.  Smile; drink it in.

 “Like” is the important word in that last paragraph.  Having sex is great, but making love with someone you really like is different.  This person in front of you is not just a momentary, sweaty distraction; you’re all of a sudden hanging out with your good friend, but you’re getting laid too.  (That sounds like such a douche-bag thing, sorry…)  It doesn’t suck to be happy.

But, you know where this story goes. 

Reality sets in, and people are often not on the same page.  Things just start not working out, because of time or distance or work or school or whatever.  Then you have a choice.  Try to chase the dragon, by compromising parts of yourself in order to make someone else happy?  Or let go. 

Letting go is hard.  Letting go can feel really redemptive and beautiful, or it can feel like ripping your own heart out of your chest.  Do you know when to let go?   Do you know when to rip your own heart out, and place it at the feet of the person you love and hope they don’t trample on it?  Do you want to fight for something?  Is there anything to even fight for?  How did something so beautiful turn into a dilemma?  Me?  You? 

Who cares?  You were right all along.  You weren’t listening to yourself.  You only remember a version of what’s happening.  There are two people in a relationship, after all.  (God, I hate that relationship word.  It’s like a fucking linguistic time bomb.)  But you need to listen not just to yourself.  You need to listen to the other person, right?  Respect.  Change your frequency to listen to other channels.  Find a different path.  Live a different life.  Embrace change and allow someone else to break through your carefully constructed brick walls.  Maybe you’ll be better or happier or healthier.

Or …

Listen to that shitty, gnawing voice in your head that doesn’t trust other people.  Or just give up, because trying is too hard.  Or be mean to that person so they’ll go away and you don’t have to face your own shitty personality flaws.  Or string the other person along so you don’t have to make an actual decision. 

How are you going to find someone else?  Meet them at a bar?  Meet them on e-harmony?  Find someone from your past who is more accessible, so you don’t have to try as hard?

 Your problem is that (eventually) they will want a part of you, and you’re not willing to give anything away.  You don’t even realize it, but you’re pushing people away, because you think you’re too fucked up to be loved properly.  Too many missteps; too many losses.  You try to find love, and then you tank it (accidentally, on purpose), because you don’t want any more messy situations in your life, right?  It feels better to not care, right?  You’re a little proud of yourself because you were able to shut off the tap before that other person wanted too much from you, right?  Good for you.  Good for all of humanity. Because the nearly constant euphoric, orgasmic, fluid parts of your “relationship” are gone; it’s all over, right?  Move on, right?

You know you.  I know you differently.  I’m just meeting me.