YOU ARE MY EVERYTHING...SOMETIMES

I will admit it. I grew up watching Disney cartoons, where they always lived ‘happily ever after’. But – happily ever after what? Obviously, happily ever after finding each other and falling in love. It’s like they entered into this state of infinite, unassailable satisfaction (inner peace) and, thereafter, just because they were together, nothing else mattered. No lack, no struggle, no loss, no tragedy – nothing! – could really affect them after finding ‘True Love’, because, apparently, by so doing they had satisfied their deepest needs. In, and with, Love, they were absolutely content, needing nothing beyond the affirmation, companionship and support of their loved ones.

Well, that’s why they are called ‘fairy tales’. Because you wake up the morning after with the same fears and insecurities you went to bed with last night. Even more, you wake up with the same dreams. You still want the things you’ve always wanted. And it doesn’t really make a difference that the love of your life is lying down in the dark beside you. That fact alone just cannot compensate for everything else. And if you don’t know this - that it’s not their fault they can’t make every pain go away, or answer every question your heart is asking; that they are actually incapable of being the centre of your world – then you could even think that they’ve suddenly become inadequate. You could accuse them of ‘not loving you anymore’. But there are journeys each of us must embark on alone. Some things will always be your cross - and your cross alone - to bear. Not your wife’s. Not your husband’s. Not your children’s. Yours.

And it really isn’t ‘sweet’ to find someone you feel you can give up this primary responsibility for your own life and destiny to; someone who can ‘take care of you’ in every way possible. For you will always find disappointment at the end of that road. First, you will grow weak and indolent, slowly forgetting the ability to stand on your own feet and roar back at life. Then, by forgetting that ability you will also lose the very thing that made you so attractive in the first place (even to your own self). And, finally, you will cry out for help one day, as usual, and will only be greeted by silence. But if that day comes, don’t panic. Just remember that love is not there to replace everything else, and that the fact that it can’t doesn’t mean it’s not True Love.  

So don’t trade in your old friends; your old family; your old disciplines; the way you used to hustle; the way you used to get up, go out and make things happen; the way you used to believe and push through; the way you used to depend on you; all the things that got you to that moment when he or she saw you for the first time and fell in love. That was what they fell in love with, even if they don’t know it. It’s really sad, sometimes, when people ‘love’ other people by crippling them, and making them dependent; or when people do it to themselves for the sake of ‘love’. If there were an ideal relationship, for me, it would be this one: one in which neither party feels compelled to carry the other just to ‘feel strong’, or to be carried by the other just to ‘feel loved’. Like two overlapping circles, we must depend on each other for many, many things in a relationship. But there will always be those spaces where we must stand alone. And that is not a bad thing either.

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WHEN IT COMES TO LOVE, I LISTEN WITH MY EYES

I know they say that Love is blind. And I sort of understand what they mean. But it would probably make more sense if they said that Love voluntarily closes its eyes, once in a while. People wouldn’t be able to stand each other, up close and personal, otherwise. You just have to ignore some things. It could be the way he is constantly picking his pants out of his crack, in public too! Or her annoying habit of not stopping till she’s crunched and swallowed the bone on her plate. People snore. They make smelly farts. They leave dirty underwear lying around. They scratch armpits and nether regions. And, yes, it’s true; everyone sits on ‘the throne’.

So, sometimes, you bump into these rough edges. It’s normal. That’s what love is for. In fact, in my more cynical moments, I think of it this way. Marriage without love is like surgery without the analgesic. Or like having a baby. (Kai! If not for love, who will voluntarily go through such an ordeal?) The process of ‘jelling’ (aka becoming one) is messy, bloody, inconvenient and sometimes downright torturous. So, yes, in many instances, Love HAS TO close its eyes. That tingling feeling helps numb the pain of making the relationship work. Like pouring water over a knife you are sharpening against a stone. It keeps heads cool while we grind out imperfections and achieve a more perfect union. Fine.

But! Don’t tell me Love is blind when you’ve just had both your eyes punched shut just because you returned an insult that was hurled at you. Or when she’s out maxing out your credit cards, digging you into debt, faster than you can dig yourself out. I don’t understand it. Is it not obvious that just because someone SAYS they love you it doesn’t mean that they actually do? That rose-tinted words should not speak louder than certain things. Like them thinking all your ideas are ‘crap’. And treating your dreams like childish whims. And constantly making side comments that make you feel fatter, shorter, hairier, uglier, not intelligent enough, not rich enough, not man enough, not woman enough; clipping your wings in front of friends and family; treating you like dirt.

I tell you, if you gave me a choice, today, to be ‘loved’ or to be treated with some respect, I won’t even think twice. It’s a no-brainer; because if there is no respect, there is no love. You don’t measure the stuff, really, by what people say or feel; you measure it by what they do; how they treat you when they’re happy, and how they treat you when they’re sad; how they treat you when they’re broke, and how they treat you when they’re rolling in it. So, I’ve learned to close my ears, because there are many smooth-tongued people out there who can talk you into a shit pit; stroking your arm and whispering rubbish. Not listening anymore, at least, not with my ears. The person that helps me, holds me up, stands by me, sticks with me – may not be as eloquent, may not be as good-looking, may not be as sizzle and spice – but THAT is the person that loves me.

Image culled from:

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THERE IS NOTHING GOLDEN ABOUT SILENCE

Maybe, at the beginning, when looking into each other’s eyes still elicits silly giggles. You don’t notice you’re spending time, but not really getting to know each other. Evenings together, but not really together; half the time you’re sitting in two separate seats, staring at a cinema screen; the other half you’re kissing or thinking about it. Not much meaningful conversation going on. But your feelings cast halos above each others’ heads. So, you think you’re compatible.

Till you get home from work. You are living together now. The TV is on and there’s enough space on the couch to sit without touching. You can eat dinner quietly too. And if there’s anything to say it has to be necessary­­; about house bills, can you pass me the remote, something needs fixing in the kitchen, and (when they finally come) the children. If you’re not talking about them, you’re not talking. Not even when you really can’t understand why he’s never noticed that you hate flowers, especially on anniversaries. It makes you angry; that he can’t read your thoughts and take you out instead; his inability to eat anything outside yam, rice and plantain is driving you crazy. But he’s frustrated too, because there are things he wants you to do in bed, but it’s all in his head. And he wishes you would just wait till half time before asking him about work.

But you’re not really asking him about work. You’re actually asking him to ask you about work, about your day, about anything. You just want to talk; talk about the girl in your office who thinks nobody knows she’s wearing body magic; it rained through the night and you lay awake listening to the clattering on the roof, it reminded you of childhood, how you would snuggle between both parents and how, sometimes, you would fight with your brother over who got the front seat. Nothing serious enough to warrant conversation. So, you keep quiet and watch football with him, again. Then, one day, he changes the channel without asking and you tell him coldly that he’s a selfish bastard. He looks shocked. Then, his eyes narrow. You’re not sure if calls you a witch or a bitch (because it’s muttered). Either way, you take off the gloves. But it’s inevitable; all your arguments end exactly where they started - in silence.

It doesn’t really matter how deep, pure, true or sincere your feelings towards each other are, neither of you is a mind-reader. And there are many things about each other you will not easily know or understand unless you talk. It’s like dancing together, no matter how good you are at it on your own, you still have to put in the effort to be good at it together. But it’s worth the trouble. If you can talk, you won’t have to hold things in until you explode. If you can talk, your house won’t be cluttered with pockets of tense silences. It’s small talk, more than anything else, that freshens the corners and airs out the house; that every day, meaningless banter of true friends. Maybe, what they should really say (at least when it comes to relationships) is that silence is golden, but only after a good conversation.

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