Love has been a best friend of mine since I was thirteen. I crowded around my laptop anxious to see Jake Ryan and Molly Ringwald kiss (Clearly, I love Sixteen Candles. I write about it in basically every article). My nose was pressed in every Rainbow Rowell novel you can imagine. I considered myself a love (freaking) expert. In fact, I felt so incredibly informed (I’m being sarcastic), that I thought it was necessary to share my knowledge with my entire junior year, history class. My teacher, who honestly shouted everything (and I mean everything), asked for opinions concerning relationships. Like an annoying know-it-all, my hand shot up. I don’t know if some of you ladies can relate, but I’ve read every romantic cliche and trope in the book. I loved them all. I knew them all. And what’s even more, I wanted them all. I loved love. I really did.
Maybe I loved it because of the way it made me feel. You know the feeling you’d get when you were thirteen and you made eye contact with a cute guy and he actually happened to smile back? Or maybe it’s the feeling you get when you learned you aced your first biology final. Or possibly it’s the rush of complete euphoria that you feel the moment you stumble on the absolute best pair of red, leather boots. Basically, love gave me the warm fuzzies.
I loved love because it was something untainted and pure that I really hadn’t seen. I had never been in a relationship. I had never really witnessed one up close. My parents divorced when I was young. They separated when I was even younger. In addition, every girl (or at least the seemingly important ones) in my eighth-grade class were flirting with boys as if their newly estrogen filled lives depended on it. If having a boyfriend was the new trend, along with colored skinny jeans and high top Converse, gosh darn it, I was gonna secretly hope to achieve it.
I loved love because it was, to me, at the time, unattainable. It was something I could dream of. And I love to dream. I love to think about all the whimsical possibilities. I love the chase. I love the fantasy. Sleeping used to be my favorite part of the day because it was the part of the day when I got to snuggle up with my pillow, shut my eyes, smile, and wait for my mind to take me somewhere romantic.
I still love love. It’s just different to me now. While it genuinely does seem great, I think that it can be better. I firmly believe that romantic comedies can only portray it to a certain degree. It can only go so far. While I love the beautiful moments in the movies, I don’t think it captures the real deal. I think those moments are reserved for certain eyes; eyes that are lucky enough to actually experience it. So to summarize, yes, I loved love, but I loved the idea of it. Hopefully, though, as I grow older, I’ll get to know the actual love, to the point where I understand it enough to (ironically) fall in love with it, or even in “like” with it. And I’ll be sure to tell you all about it when I do.