False Love.

March 2, 2011 § 2 Comments

How DO you know it’s true love and not false love? There is a more than enough written, sung, and produced about true love, but no one really can give a definition. Even our most reliable internet source, Wikipedia, doesn’t define true love in real terms, but rather lists film, literature, and music by which it was titled after and then sites a whaler/cargo ship constructed in 1764. The only written meaning I’ve found is, True Love: something girls feel when they have drank too much and something guys fear. Thanks, Urban Dictionary for the attempt.

To make the subject even more confusing, a lot of quacks say (myself included) there is a difference between loving someone and being in love with someone. Then there is the addendum to this by saying you can fall out of love with someone you are in love with. Also, some people have been known to announce a disclaimer: there is more than one true love for everyone. This sort-of negates any outlandish statements professed in previous relationships that turned sour and gives divorcées hope. Hey, guys! Let’s make up our minds already! Love… true or false?

Like the Swedish duo, Roxette, proclaimed with help of everyone’s favorite romantic comedy, it must have been love, but it’s over now. I too, like Pretty Woman, thought that my life was ending and that true love doesn’t exist. About a year and a half ago, the manboy I had convinced myself I was going to marry, broke up with me after growing some balls at a Bruce Springsteen concert.

I say grew some balls, because for a long time it must have been false love and we lost it somehow. We were like two puzzle pieces being forced to fit, finger nails turning white as you press them together, the kitten’s whiskers looking more like talons of an eagle. It was neither pretty nor easy. I was the one who was saying, “This totally fits together, looks just like the picture on the box.” But after seeing to The Boss on a different ocean, he stood up to me and said, “I’ve never seen a kitten like that, there is something seriously wrong with it.” Well, actually he didn’t stand up and say anything at all, not to my face anyway. Like an average Gen-Yer he used his text and composed it on an airplane then waited a little too long to give it to me. True love wouldn’t dream of breaking up with me like that, well… true love woudn’t break up with me at all. Spot on, it was false love, so I’ll spare myself the how and the why.

I can’t say that my outlook has changed a whole lot since then. I think I’ve experienced mostly false love in my time and I’m not so sure true love even exists. I’ve done some soul searching on the subject and it seems since adolescence I’ve had a pretty grim outlook on romance. I quote from my 2001 high school journal for Creative Writing class, “I hate Valentine’s Day, I don’t even want to get started on Sweetest Day. I don’t think you need a holiday to tell someone you love them. I don’t believe in anniversaries, 6 weeks, 4 months or 12 years. A relationship develops over time, and over time relationships fall apart. People fall in love with titles and statuses instead of other people. It’s sad really.”  Wow, if seventeen year-old me could have talked to 24 year-old me, I might not have had my soul spit on when Mr. Wrong-Way-on A-One-Way-Track crushed my future wedding bells. Makes me wonder what other notes my past self might have been trying to leave for my future self.

Maybe true love is real, it just looks a little fake at first, like Cher from Clueless. Even a girl with her closet could realize the truth in the end. Maybe true love is exciting, shocking, yet weird and a little gross, like getting your first period. You’ve been warned and you wait for it… you wait for it. You imagine what it would be like, a glamorized womanhood in your head. There have been a couple a false alarms, some spotting and you just want the waiting to be over. Then when you least expect it, on an unassuming bathroom break after homeroom, you look down and know for certain: this must be it, there is no mistaking this. Thankfully, you’re prepared with the proper gear to take care of business, but you’ve never really done this before so you follow your instincts, worrying about every little thing. And you’re so flustered you tuck your skirt into your tights as you wander back to class hoping to run into someone you trust so you can tell them what’s going on in your panties.

Sounds pretty close to what my married friends say walking down the aisle feels like. So maybe I’m a late bloomer, I just haven’t gotten mine yet. Maybe true love is just as confusing as puberty.


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§ 2 Responses to False Love.

  • Radio Dial Man says:

    As I read this post, I felt that a reply was in order. One must never give up hope for without hope there is nothing; that, my dear bachelorette, is why there are an infinity of soong, movies, and other multimedia sources that deal with what the human race has deemed “True Love”. On the other hand, if we do not expereience “False Love” as you call it, then we will never know “True Love” when it calls.

    I may be a little older, at the young age of 34, than most of the readers of these missives; or, I may not be, my age is irrelevant — except for the fact that with age comes experience. That experience has taught me that “True Love”, in any form of its definition, does exist. It is not something that can be forced; it is something that must be given the proper respect. It must be nurtured. Like a plant, it must be watered, given sunlight, and fertile soil to thrive; without these ingredients, it will wither and die.

    From the various posts that you dilligently write for the public to see, it is evident that you are wise beyond your years. The manner in which you write makes it appear that you are better at it than the majority of the general public — no small feat I might add. The thought process you use to express yourself signifies that you are a smart, inteligent twenty something. All of these items are your water, your sunlight and your soil to nurture “True Love”. Keep mantaining your plant and I am sure that one day, when it flowers, a lone bee will come along and polinate it in the correct manner.

    When the bee starts to circle, you will know. Its not the “Buttlerflies In The Stomach” feeling that I am talking about; it is something much deeper, much more intense that only comes along when your flower is blooming. The trick, is to have the where-with-all to see it; that is what “False Love” has taught you.

    Most twenty-something guys have a chip in their circuitry that emits “False Love”; most twenty-something girls are ready for “True Love” and they believe that they will find it (again we tread back into the land of hope). On occasion the twenty-something guy has a defect in the circuitry that makes a twenty-something girl find her “True Love”. In reality, it isn’t until the guy is thirty-something that his circuitry evolves.

    Its in his thirties that a guy realises the fact that for most of his life he has been emitting the “False Love” signal — some ladies might phrase it differently: The Ass Hole Phase. Granted some guys’ circuitry never evolves, and there are always “Assholes” out there; but, in genereal, the circuitry changes.

    Maybe your just around the wrong hive. Ever thought about uprooting and changing hive locations?

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