i refuse to fall in love

I refuse to fall in love again. I understand the overwhelming reaction it provokes on anyone it touches, which only reminds me that situations of intense hatred are not all that far removed from intense love. They are strong, driving and powerful – which makes them dangerous.

Don’t get me wrong I have nothing against love. My cynicism has not been totally hacked away, but chipped chunks of it permit some glimmer of light to shine through. Love is beautiful… love is sublime. Love is the greatest inexplicable feeling of all. All too true, but perhaps, meant only for other people. Not I. Not just yet anyway.

It isn’t that I’m obtuse, as much as I know that love can make people do things they wouldn’t normally do. Love has a way of taking you out of yourself and making you dedicate yourself to another, who may or may not respond in kind. Love is also a very disruptive experience. All your life you walk alone then all of the sudden somebody comes along and shakes all that. All this is what I find formidable - the power of the unknown. I have not been unloved, and I am not a total stranger to the feeling. I know how it feels to fall in love – the exultant euphoria of coming across a special stranger who touches something deep within you. Perhaps that is what I fear – to lose control to another human being like that, knowing all too well how fallible human beings are despite love; it is an unsettling prospect at best. Whenever I feel the pangs of stirring affection, the full of heady attraction, of the aching pain of missing someone of whom I am very fond of, it is not long before I stop myself and hold back, creating a safe distance, an impasse from which I can view this intruder with a cool, detached critical eye, not driven and blinded by wild, unreliable passion. I will myself to drift away – “I can live without this person” is what I often tell myself – in order to prevent the other from overwhelming me. Because I know that when I fall – I fall hard. And, if I fall again – I’ll fall harder. Which only make me hold back all the more. That is, keep everything to myself… silently.

Is it selfish to relinquish the “I” for an unassured “WE”? Perhaps, but when it has taken too long to find that “I”, one cannot entirely put to task for wanting to cherish the treasure of self longer than usual. At this point, I cannot gamble myself the self I sought for so long for the promise of a “YOU” and “I”; what guarantee is there that the other will not simply take my heart and stomp on it? Love gives no guarantee, and trust that is needed to bridge this uncertainty is perhaps what gives love its luster. But I have never been one easily given to trust, and therefore taking the leap into love is not an easy decision to make for me. Others plunge in with nary a second thought. They are not I.

Perhaps this primal insecurity only speaks of immaturity, and hence the inability to love, truly love. For mature or being in-love is one that does not seek fulfillment in the other, nor dependence, but rather, the mutual understanding and exchange of love connecting only to themselves.

Then, maybe then… when I am ready and bold enough to risk my heart again in asking the same promise which brought me to grief… IT COULD BE THE LAST.

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i forwarded this essay (author unknown -- i don't even remember how i got it) to a friend of mine, at a time when we were both dealing with questions and heartache. everyone must have gone through the same thing when falling in love -- the denial, pain, anguish, and finally, hope. when you think of it, this falling-in-love business should already go smoothly, with the wealth of experience since the beginning of time that can be used for reference. it should go like clockwork, and processes should have been defined (imagine falling in love documented in an ISO manual). but the differences that make us into individual beings are a big factor, and each distinct experience become vastly different from others just because the person is different.

novices find it hard to take the plunge, because of fear of the unknown. but people with experience are wary of getting hurt as well, because they have been hurt before. or if not, they want the real thing next time, and are scared to risk time and effort for something that might not be worth it.

so, now what?