Life is about love. That all important special someone. I'm a romantic, shoot me. An idealist. I would love to be. I have realism to though baby. I buy into all this nice stuff for so long, then my cynical side comes and gives me a big huge kick in the ass, and reminds me that the world isn't so damn rosey after all. Prepare myself for a fall before the world does it for me. Oh yes my friends, that is how I think. Anyway, not making much sense here, as I was saying. I do like to believe in love. Growing up, I believed everyone was like my parents, meet young, fall madly in love, marry young, have children, grow old happily together. That's how it works, right? Things such as cheating, and such never even popped into my tiny little mind. I just thought it worked like that. How sadly mistaken was I. It would appear my parents were very lucky, and I was simply born into the wrong generation for my romantic notions to ever exist. For now it seems I am not going to follow in their footsteps. Not that I nessecarily want to, but some of it would be nice.
By the time my Mum was twenty one, she was married, and had a baby, and had another baby on the way. She was happy to settle down into her role as housewife, while my Dad went out to do the work and provide for his family. They met when they were fourteen, love at first sight. Neither have ever strayed as far as i know, and i can't imagine either ever wanting to. Because I see that passion in their eyes even now. I see how they love each other, that hasn't dulled over time. It's grown, they have this amazing understanding of each other, that I can't even begin to comprehend. They laugh at the same things, that a sane person wouldn't even consider to be funny. They were lucky. They were, that doesn't happen every day, and it doesn't last thirty years, and still going strong. I'll keep saying it, they were lucky. Now as much as I would like to meet that one person who rocked my world. I wouldn't be willing to settle down, stay at home like a good little wife, and do all that kind of stuff. Don't get me wrong, if I had kids, I wouldn't want to leave them, but I don't feel ready for all that at the moment. My Mum thinks I'm insane, she thinks I need a man. That it's odd, I haven't followed her footsteps. It would be super lovely to one day get what she has with my Dad, someone to grow old with, but I don't know folks, that cynical side is kicking me in the ass again.
Love is a complicated thing. Because it is so difficult to define. What is love? How do we know when we are in love? We just know, right? That's what people say. It is a feeling, that is so great, words can't define it. Until we experience, what love isn't, surely only then we know what love is? That's what most people view it as, trial and error. Like my kissing so many frogs theory. People date, meet people, have sex with random people, all because they are looking for that certain someone? People are sometimes made to feel like there is something wrong with them for not having someone. They seem to have to be able to say, ohhh my boyfriend did this, or my girlfriend does that. Having a partner is like having the latest designer watch. You do it to fit in. So this wonderful, beautiful thing called love gets cheapened. People are with other people for the sake of, so they just have someone. So they have someone they kind of like, who they put up with. Not someone they adore, who makes them happy on the darkest of days, who gives them goose bumps, who gives them butterflies in their tum tum, who quite simply rocks their world. We make do, and don't hold out for what's right. So what happens then after being with someone for thirty years?
Them three little words......" I love you " change into them all more important three little words...." I tolerate you "