Romantic Love, an Experience
Rudy Fransisco once mentioned in his poem that "Love is a tablespoon full of hemlock that I’ve been dying to try."
I understand the sentiment. I despise love—well, romantic love at least. Though I do not precisely know what it tastes like, I have no doubt that it would not agree with me. Throughout the years, I have sampled its varying kinds that were handed out by an abundance of begetters. They claimed that these snippets were the building blocks of love that were consisted of romance, intimacy, and kindness. However, in exchange for receiving those bits, I was required to be vulnerable in all sorts of ways. I was required to be candid, truthful, naked, and open to everything.
In theory, all of this would be rational, some sort of necessary requirement for establishing romantic love. Everything would be balanced out through equal exchange of building blocks and nakedness by both parties. But alas, it was nothing of the sort. The snippets that they offered in exchange for my candour were often only a one way transaction. Frequently, I was left alone and naked in the dark; feeling cold, unfortified, betrayed, and humiliated after such failed exchange where the begetters do not like my nakedness and cancelled the transaction. It would take me weeks, months, even years to recover from baring myself to those begetters, and I had to borrow warmth and kindness from my platonic peers. I admit my foolishness for allowing myself to be naked and vulnerable over and over again. I admit my wanton desire to engulf romantic love; to fully digest it without shame, remorse or consequences, and feel the transcendental experience that people regularly undergo. But self-preservation demands me to direct my desire elsewhere to a more rewarding and less risky experience.
I suppose, in the end, romantic love is an expensive indulgence not everyone can experience in their lifetime.
I understand the sentiment. I despise love—well, romantic love at least. Though I do not precisely know what it tastes like, I have no doubt that it would not agree with me. Throughout the years, I have sampled its varying kinds that were handed out by an abundance of begetters. They claimed that these snippets were the building blocks of love that were consisted of romance, intimacy, and kindness. However, in exchange for receiving those bits, I was required to be vulnerable in all sorts of ways. I was required to be candid, truthful, naked, and open to everything.
In theory, all of this would be rational, some sort of necessary requirement for establishing romantic love. Everything would be balanced out through equal exchange of building blocks and nakedness by both parties. But alas, it was nothing of the sort. The snippets that they offered in exchange for my candour were often only a one way transaction. Frequently, I was left alone and naked in the dark; feeling cold, unfortified, betrayed, and humiliated after such failed exchange where the begetters do not like my nakedness and cancelled the transaction. It would take me weeks, months, even years to recover from baring myself to those begetters, and I had to borrow warmth and kindness from my platonic peers. I admit my foolishness for allowing myself to be naked and vulnerable over and over again. I admit my wanton desire to engulf romantic love; to fully digest it without shame, remorse or consequences, and feel the transcendental experience that people regularly undergo. But self-preservation demands me to direct my desire elsewhere to a more rewarding and less risky experience.
I suppose, in the end, romantic love is an expensive indulgence not everyone can experience in their lifetime.