When i was growing up, Savage Garden’s “truly, Madly, Deeply,” was basically an anthem for my view on love. The fact that there was this hope of finding someone who i loved truly, madly, and deeply drove me to live my life everyday. the reality was that i was a romantic even at the age of 11. an even deeper reality was that i had no rational idea about love, my own parents were not inspirational, but a song by a shitty pop band was. the chances of Savage Garden even believing that were non-existent. slowly, the idea of love became something that people just loved to hear.
my first girlfriend, whom i will refer to as “D.” shattered that mentality. i loved to love. untill she shattered that new mentality as well, when she had anal sex with three guys and even made a documentary about it. so i was back to square one. all that could be done about that was to just recline my seat and marvel at the wonders and capabilities of human life.
a few successions of horrible flings spanning through itineraries of the perfect girls has not changed my mind about love. i became rather despondent to allowing myself to become vulnerable. that superficialities were reciprocated by my own superficialities because, well what the hell is the point in letting you in if you’re going to fuck shit up anyway?
then i met someone. a clever girl, whom i found intellectually stimulating, who wasn’t fat or ugly. by this point, i had completely given up on the idea of falling in love, but i was prepared to say it in order to rest my cock inside of a vagina. not with this girl. she was so compelling that i had to fabricate reasons to why i shouldn’t hit on her. i had to tell myself she looekd fat at certain times and she looked ugly when she wore this, just anything that would pull me out of the spiral of curiosity. that failed miserably. the fact was that she was drop dead gorgeous, and even more convincing when she’s four feet in front of you. Her personality even glowed in correspondence to mine. she was perfect. then came the question of how i was going to fuck it all up.
because of my pre-existing notions on love, i had already pessimistically assumed she would do something slimy to ruin everything. but she didn’t, and still hasn’t. she lied about how many guys she’s slept with but that’s it. and that was to protect me and to boost my own ego. quite a dangerous risk if you ask me. but she admitted it later. so as of yet, she’s still been marvelous.
now i’m starting to feel afraid. i was doomed from the beginning. i can’t allow myself to accept her as the one honest relationship i’ll have. and if i did, i’ll be crushed into a depressing state of existentialism where she’d single-handedly and unintentionally control how i’ll look at relationships for the rest of my life. i couldjust accept it and roll with the punches, but that little anti-love voice in the back of my mind still coaches me the same way a coach that never wins a game coaches me. it sounds like it knows what it’s talking about, but it’s track record in results fucking blows.
If no one really cared for you the right way, then you may be suspicious of anyone really caring for you at all. my good friend Charity said that, and it’s especially true in my case. (on a side note, it doesn’t help when the person giving you excellent advice is someone you’d like to bang in a bondage fantasy.)
anyway, i love my girlfriend. and i want to let her love me.
(the previous picture i had up caused unecessary problems, so i’m uploading the rightful one now, a little too late.)
and as an update, now i find myself wishing she would let me love her.