Lately, I've found that two different sides of my personality have been having this recurring internal argument about love.
My jaded, possibly bitter, definitely pragmatic side argues that love is probably not real at all. It's just a fluff word that people use to romanticize something that is convenient for them. When you're young, you may "fall in love" a time or two. It's new, it's exciting, you're experiencing all these new things and sharing them with another person. But that newness, that fire, it always wears off eventually. Usually when you discover that the guy you're seeing is actually a vile, semi-comatose troll, or a perhaps nymphomaniac, whose tastes aren't limited to just you. And then you tell yourself, "Oh, I'm so young, I have so much time, and I'm sure The One will come along eventually. No rush to meet someone now."
And then you get a little older, like me, and you find that dating is like a second job. A job you hate and don't get paid for and find yourself constantly wondering why you're doing it. The men you meet are few and far between. You go for months without speaking to anyone of the opposite sex. Finally you're like, "Well fuck, I'm never gonna meet anyone, and all the good ones are already taken, and God why am I so damn picky? Perhaps I should just accept my fate as a spinster and start watching the home shopping network and collecting cats."
Then another 10 years go by and maybe you meet someone who really makes you laugh, or who's always around when you want to veg out in front of the television, or maybe they're just good in bed, and despite your lack of attraction to this person, or the fact that he is a foot shorter than you, or 20 pounds overweight, or $50k in debt, you think, "Sure, yea I could spend the rest of my life with this person. I mean it's better than being alone. At least I'll be able to get a house and have someone to split the mortgage with." Or maybe you're one of those people who really wants kids, and you're sick of waiting for Mister Perfect to come along, so you just pick a guy who's able to support a family, and wants kids as much as you do. Or, maybe you're sick of living paycheck to paycheck, so when you meet a man who's wealthy, you look past his saggy man boobs, silver ball hair and hemorrhoids, and marry him.
All these things have to be taken into consideration when choosing a life companion. So where does the fabled and elusive "Love" actually come into play? I don't think it actually does. I think it's just a nice name for all these conveniences, these necessary affiliations. I think Love is just what people call it, so that when they go to bed at night, they can feel ok about their relationship and their life, because really all people want is security, stability. When you get to be 35-40, you don't want to wake up wondering if you have enough money in your checking account to pay your rent. You don't want to have that same nagging conversation in your head about whether there actually is a guy out there for you. You don't want to sit alone in your studio apartment wondering how long it would take for someone to find you if you were to drop dead at that very moment. You want to know you're going to be ok.
And that's why I think Love doesn't really exist.
On the other hand, my romantic, dare to be hopeful side, thinks that if people are still getting married, there must be something to it. There must be some rhyme or reason behind fairy tales and love stories. Right? Awe fuck it.