There are many things I don’t understand about Valentine’s day.
Like why and how in the world did Cupid get chosen to represent it? I mean, when I think about romance, the last thing on my mind is a short, chubby toddler coming at me with a weapon.
Similarly, there is equally as much that I don’t get about love. You sometimes get as angry at that someone as much as you miss them; you can’t stand them as much as you crave their presence next to you; you want to wrap all your fingers around their throat and squeeze as hard as you want to be held in their arms. I’m not even going to start pretending that I know a fair deal about this emotion when, truth be told, I don’t – not even after having been swimming in it everyday for close to two and a half years. But what I know is that it makes me happy – in the clouds, swimming among the stars and high-fiving cupid himself kind of happy. If it feels that good, I’m sure it can’t be wrong.
Just as elating, however, is of course, the inevitable fear that one day it could all disappear as easily as it came. You don’t get to reap the rewards by not trading in something for it, right? Unfortunately with this round, the stakes are high and you risk to lose everything. It’s all in or nothing. Is it worth it to put to play your most fragile asset, the most precious part of what makes you, you?
I say yes. Simply because, without love, what are we worth?
We’re all a little weird. And life is a little weird. And when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall into mutually satisfying weirdness. That’s basically what all this hoo-hah is. True love comes quietly, without banners or flashing lights. If you hear the proverbial bells, I’d suggest you go get your ears checked. Me, I’m focusing on the real deal.
His goofy grin and my awkward laugh. His bristly mop of hair and my crooked two front teeth. His lopsided dimple on his left cheek and my little mole on my right. His knobby knees and my stubby toes. His lanky frame and my petite shoulders. His squinty eyes when he gets excited and my dinnerplate peepers when I get upset. His thick eyebrows and my button nose. His voracious appetite and my weakness for all things sweet, creamy and colourful.
It’s many things at once, thrown into one big cauldron of sappy romanticism, and mixed all up with a giant ladle of sloppy smooches. What we get, if nothing else, I think can safely be called what so many others describe as Love.
Happy Valentine’s, you. ♥