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.
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