The Love Question

I am the kind of tired that comes from allowing yourself an adequate amount of sleep for the first time in ages. While I wouldn't trade back a single moment of this weekend's delicious slumber, I now remember what I was missing. There is a sense of reckless liberation that comes from not setting even one of the two alarms to which I awake on a daily basis (poll: anal or responsible?)

On a whim, Dan and I went to see "(500) Days of Summer" today when our perpetually at-war schedules spontaneously aligned. I cherish my time spent with Dan, who will tragically be moving to Pittsburgh in the Fall. (To clarify, I consider this tragic only from a purely selfish standpoint; Dan is a unique and exceptional friend whose is utterly irreplaceable. Then again, his inability to be replaced is likely what has allowed our friendship to endure for so long, in spite of spending much of it miles apart. The move to Pittsburgh is actually something to be celebrated, as it marks the official beginning of what promises to be an extensive career doing what he loves.)

The movie was all I hoped it would be. Genuine, surprising, unpretentious yet at times profound. It drop-kicked this phenomenon called 'love' from its pedestal and redefined it as something accessible and real - something we may only find when we stop dressing it up as a trophy to be won and begin taking it for what it is: highly likely but utterly imperfect, often fleeting, rarely permanent, often agonizing and usually worth it.

And believe me, as yet another among a sea of women who can't help but think she deserves better than what she has been served in the love department, I find this difficult to admit. But the problem, it seems, is that we treat relationships as if they are an end to be reached. An answer to a problem. A light in the dark. We are putting entirely too much pressure on them.

The only relationship I have complete and utter faith in is with myself. And ultimately, that is the person I have to see when I wake up every morning, and the person with whom, whether I like it or not, I will grow old. The person who totally gets me.

Any other relationship, be it an intense unrequited crush or a lifelong commitment, is to be taken for what it is. It may change me for better or for worse; it will hopefully teach me something. It may last forever and it may create a hurt so deep that I think I will never recover. But I know who will be there when I do.

Trust me, I don't think I'm the first to extrapolate on the "No one can ever truly love you until you love yourself" philosophy. But it's a cliche for a reason, and also one that you have to experience first-hand to really take to heart. Of course I want to experience the kind of love with another person so influential that I question every single thing I believe. But doesn't the idea of this only happening once, even if it lasts forever, make it a little less interesting, exciting, even possible?