When you dive into your own past, the bricks of memory lane fade as you go deeper into yourself.
Memories have their own light, and I know when an event has been stored within me as a thread of my past, because the images come back shinier, wet from this special sunshine of our unconscious.
Memories can be hard as marble, or soft as bread. They can be manipulated infinitely, to fit our changing lucidity, to serve more often than not) our fears.
I have been thinking a lot about my love life lately. I have gone through relationships that could not have been more different than the others, each of which has disturbed and even crumble my pre-definite vision of love.
Growing up, I was so sure love was a concrete, real, existing thing. Love is accepted as obvious and omnipresent. I read a lot as a child, and my romantic side has been nourished by beautiful words and starving poets and heartbreaks. It has always been seen as a good thing to read. It’s good to be a reader. However, I start wondering if I haven’t been influenced by novels on the matter. Is it that good to be filled by invented stories? Is it that good to believe that the core of the love stories rely on something true?
A lot has been said about love. Scientists rely on chemistry to explain physical attraction. Religion excuses sex by inventing familial love. The collective unconscious rely on a binary vision of life, good versus bad, love versus fear. Philosophers say humans have invented love, that it is an artistic creation, a cultural and not biological one, if you prefer.
I am watching a very old video I took on my phone. It is actually the oldest still recorded on my cloud. I am filming my ex-boyfriend. It ended badly with him, and I had such big issues at the time that I buried him, our story, and made only hurtful memories of him. Their light is white and cold like neon.
However, on this short movie, I seem happy to have him in my living-room. He is searching some music on my computer. He seems very at ease. He must have been: we were in love. Or at least I thought that was love.
We have a conversation, he makes a few jokes. My heart has a bit of a shock when I see the movie. So it wasn’t just bad.
But does that even matter?
After my last serious relationship, I have never since committed to anyone.
The whole thing had just been so draining. So exhausting. And, very secretly, I felt very guilty from knowing, quite soon, that he wasn’t the one. I did love him, but I always knew this love wasn’t meant to last. And I was young and naive enough to believe it was a bad thing.
We have to give so much to love. Exclusivity, lying to yourself, thinking of “we“ before “I“, eternity, fidelity… And don’t get me started on all the crap we are fed with by entertainment and media and people.
So, after the Last Serious One, I quit. I decided the whole thing just wasn’t for me. I had, I have to admit, a royal time on Tinder and then traveling. I was mourning many thing in 2015, and yet, I decided to enjoy, to carpe the shit out of that diem as possible. I met cute guys, has sensual nights, disturbing conversations, one nights stands… Here it comes back: it is dark in the June night of Rio, in my first day in Brazil, and I am smelling the air, surprised by how different the air you are breathing is.
I haven’t been in love since The Last Serious One. And I start asking myself if I have ever been able to love. The whole concept started disintegrating inside my skull. It just seemed like a statue that sing when touched by the sun.
I met two men who seriously shook the whole thing. The two argued love was a human scheme, based on guilt and bullshit and religion and fear.
Fear. Because very often we fight our fears with love, we pretty much mess thing up. We think love is the solution to all our issues. First, the big one: our fear of solitude, the filling the void thing. We just don’t want to be alone. But being with someone doesn’t mean you are no longer by yourself. You have to deal with your existential solitude first. Everyone is always alone. Yeah, yeah, no man is an island, but man is a wolf to man, right?
That’s how it ended with him. He was so scared to be alone. We saw each other every day. It became suffocating. The more I seemed to get further away, the more worried he grew. He felt threatened. He hated himself.
One night, it is over. I know it is. I stop carrying his solitude and go back to my own, with a immense sens of relief. I leave him to becoming a memory.
So I stop. I discuss the matter with the men I am seeing. There are no longer rules or declarations of love or jealousy or possessiveness. I disengage from passion, burning love, all those schemes. In 2016, I cut ties with many of my friends as well as with my family. I also question love as friendship or with my family.
Love is no longer obvious.
But, I have to admit, I am a tiny tiny bored. Everything seems lucid and reasonable, but it is a bit lukewarm. And I feel very influenced by all those diverging point of views. My stream of consciousness is a malstrom of details, faces, words.
Ô toi que j’eusse aimé! Ô toi qui le savais… I mean this whole process has been really exhausting I feel so good with Nick when we have one-on-ones but at the last group date…And I will always love you-ou-ou-ou-ou-ou….Love thyself… Love lasts three years and according to the study led by those scientists, it is programmed…To last an entire life, as demonstrated by this beautiful movie…You’re his lobster! *crowd cheering and oowing and applauding Ross and Rachel’s first kiss*…He’s just not that into you… Love you sista! Love ya too… Ps: I love you…Through those two great black eyes, the outlets of your soul,O pitiless demon!… Hey I just met you and you are beautiful no matter what they say coz words can’t bring you do-o-wn-ou-oo-oo… I think I see myself having some thoughts about maybe thinking about spending the rest of my life my Amy B…I mean you know this is total bullshit right? Of course it is, come on… Don’t get trapped….
In reality, I don’t have the slightest idea if love is real, if love exists, if I can love, and all that.
Does Love Exist will consists of episodes I will post, around my search for an answer to the question.
From new money couples met at a club, to my BFF’s, parents, children, drunk conversations, old pals and new strangers, I am going to wander around to find clues, phrases, videos, and pics. I will post episodes trying to give some answers, from the roots of the devil, to the ideal of love.
If you want to participate, send me a mail and answer those three questions:
- Do you have a definition of love? If so, why and can you explain it to me?
- Do you believe you have ever loved? Whom?
- Does love exists, according to you? And why?
See you around, ““““love ya“““““!
(Here is my SourCandy playlist #1.)