Monday, April 17, 2006

This war of love

How she learned to flush love letters down the toilet, to leave no hairs on the borrowed comb, to gather up hair pins, to erase traces of lipstick anywhere, to brush off clouds of face powder.

Her eyes like the eyes of a spy.

Her habits like the habits of a spy. How she lay all her clothes on one chair, as if she might be called away suddenly and must not leave any traces of her presence.

She knew all the trickeries in this war of love.

(Anais Nin - A Spy in the House of Love)

I am in love. Again.

At first, it was just lust, and I liked it that way. After years of falling tumultuously in and out of love (that fucking open manhole, as Chelsea Girl put it once), I wanted something pure and simple, something uncomplicated. You're hot, I'm horny, let's fuck. None of that relationship girlfriend boyfriend bullshit.

I've had clingy, possessive, moody boys, and I hated it and ate it up in equal measures. I both enjoyed and despised being desired. But I always fell for it. I loved their insecurities, their vulnerability. I loved their messy, complicated selves because they loved me back. But at the same time, I resented the implied ownership of being a girlfriend. I was always ready to flee, and flee I did.

It still amazes me, the utter ease with which I dropped one man in exchange for another. It sounds so callous, and I suppose it is, but a total absence of emotion has accompanied almost all of my breakups. Numbness takes over, and that man I loved, comforted, clung to in bed, becomes a distant, painless memory. There are some I have loved and now barely remember. Somewhere, though, the experience lingers, and I feel it like a callous on my heart.

Of course, there's the flip side: the ones that stay with you. My first love/fuck will forever be seared into my brain. A long-distance lover, whom I hurt badly, still lives there too, making sure I never make the same mistakes again.

Do I even know what love is? Can it be love if I treat it with such disregard? I don't know. I know that whatever I feel is real, no matter which label I put on it. It's starting to take its toll, though. The scar tissue on my heart is becoming difficult to pierce.

Pierce it he has, though. He called me his girlfriend and I knew it had started. Then we really connected, that one night, and I knew this was something. Maybe just really great sexual chemistry, but something. I've only gone deeper since then. I didn't really want this, this complicated love thing, not again. Not now. But here it is, and you don't say no to love. Even if it is a war, sometimes.


Blogger Hannah said...

Sooner or later it sneaks up on all of us, despite our best efforts. My advice? Enjoy it.

12:21 AM  

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