What Is Love, Anyway?

You know love isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.  I always think of one of Sam Kinnison’s routine about love.

Love says: “Hey, I’m love, follow me!”  Right, you wouldn’t lie to me nine times in a row, would ya.  Oh!  Ohhhhhhh!

I don’t get it.  Of course, some people would think I’m starved for love.  I haven’t had a romantic relationship in 20 years!  But you don’t see me desperately looking for love. I’m not cryin’ in my coffee.  I like solitude.  I like being completely in charge of my life.  And women resent that, if they’re interested in a romantic relationship.  They want to do things together….

That and they want you to change. My last romantic relationship ended about the time it surfaced that my partner had a number of pet peeves and I violated  all of them.  The choice was try to change myself—or scuttle the whole affair. There were other reasons it didn’t last, but that “wanting change” syndrome was really damaging.  My partner had an agenda, an image of what she wanted me to be, and that image did not align with my self-image. 

But that was just number nine, of love saying “follow me”!  There had been at least eight other failed romantic relationships in a line going back to fourth grade….

But seriously, I’ve had two marriages, both ended in negative circumstances, the first lasted 3 years and the second 15 years. And they both left a bad taste in my mouth.  Then there was the high school sweetheart, who nearly killed me with our breakup.  There was the girl who took me to Wisconsin to became a hippy farmer.  There was the years older nurse.  The married girl in Tucson who’s husband was a biker in prison.  There was the BDSM aficionado.  Throw in a handful of grade and high school experimentations (including my two fourth grade girlfriends!) and we have nine or ten times of love saying “follow me!”   Where has it led me?  To my 20 year remission, that’s where.  Why go through that again?  Nine times is enough! 

So that’s love on the romantic side.  I get love on other levels.  I get familial love.  I loved my mom. Never knew my dad.  Love my sister and brother (even though said brother is estranged).  So I get love at that level.

And I get love for friends.  I love you, man!  (You ain’t getting’ my Budweiser!)  I’m not all about saying it to my friends. “Love you!” “Love you too” feels … awkward.  To me. Some people dispense those “love yous” too freely. 

I got your love. Like the time I was eating pizza with my goddaughters, and I said, "I love pizza"--and the goddaughters said, "Well why don't you marry it?!" There's perspective for you on love, right there, man.

Now, having said all that … I’d give love a chance.  If I met someone truly outstanding, I would consider romance.  I like to think I’m an open-minded person, got to be open to Romance if it comes knocking on your door, saying “follow me!”

I think romance gets less hinky as you get older.   When you’re my age, times is going VERY fast, so little things disappear into the slipstream of time.  It’s harder to get resentments, to nurse grudges, when you realize how quickly you’re reaching the end of the runway.  When time is your only real currency.  Money can be made. Time, on the other hand, can only be killed. Once you use up that second, it’s gone daddy gone. (Cue the Violent Femmes!)