On Falling In Love (Again)

I had what may have been the most perfect Sunday. (Or, rather, my perfect Sunday.) I woke up, shook this lingering cloud of menstrual angst that managed to put a damper on my entire last week, and made my way to Central Park for what I’ve decided to call “corporate solitude.” By that, I don’t mean that I sold out and decided to do some solitude-forward #sponcon; I mean that my solitude was a semi-shared-experience.

“Unless you’ve seen it, it’s a futile pursuit.”

Central Park is a wonderful place: once you make it past the first layer of clueless out-of-towners searching for the “imagine” mosaic, you end up among droves of happy couples. Some are on a first or second date (you can tell, the sexual tension is palpable even in a passing glance), some have been together for—perhaps—too long (you can tell, the sexual tension leaves a lot to be desired), and some are about to embark on the “journey of a lifetime” like the couple I walked by on my trek. He’d just popped the question and was staring adoringly at her, she was staring adoringly at the ring and, quite loudly, making a list of all of the people she was about to call. Just live in the moment, bitch, my calloused self thought from a park bench nearby as I made love to a bodega BEC. She dialed a person who I’m assuming is her mother, excitedly sharing her very fresh (we’re talking less-than-five-minutes ago) engagement story. Something about it got to me, my calloused heart softening just enough to bring a tear to my eye. Central Park is full of the corniest assholes, of which I am undoubtedly the corniest.

This, of course, got me to thinking about my own romantic rollercoaster. (That’s not even close to an apt description, as I’ve been led to believe that rollercoasters are supposed to be “fun,” so maybe we should go with “romantic root canal” instead?) I read somewhere that describing what it feels like to be in love is akin to describing a color. Unless you’ve seen it, it’s a futile pursuit. I know what I’d always been taught love is, and that what I’ve felt before. I also know that this idea of it failed me each and every time. As I finished up my sandwich and pushed through the happy couples, I found myself among the final layer of Central Park-goers—pensively sullen individuals—and asked myself this question over and over, the syllables forming a rhythmic query that matched the soft pitter-patter of abnormally large rain drops scattering on the pavement: what does it mean to be in love?

The deeper into the park I traversed, the deeper into thought I fell. I began to feel unsettled by uncertain (read: unplanned) state of my own new love, which made me wonder—is this a sign that I should cede control and just let something good happen, or have I not yet experienced my life’s great love? I always thought I was certain so the uncertainty only scares me because it’s such a foreign concept in love for me. I’m a planner. I like to know what’s going to happen in 30, 60, 90, etc. days. Turns out, that’s not the best approach when it comes to life and love and letting things happen. Does that mean that this, in all its slow-burning splendor, could be it? I always thought that love was something you felt with your “heart”—not as an organ, but as this romanticized notion that, “if ‘it’ gives you butterflies, it’s probably the real deal.” But what about with my head?

What is it about love that has caused convention to deem it an emotional state rather than a practice or even a conscious decision? Why has it been divorced of logic, devoid of rational explanation and introspection? Why does it have to “feel” right? In the past, I sacrificed important needs—to be protected and cared for in a way I cannot protect or care for myself, to be challenged in meaningful conversation, to be cherished unconditionally but still allowed autonomy and an identity outside of the relationship—all for a feeling. (And in the process of doing so, nearly lost what makes me fundamentally—well—me.) Who among us can say that they haven’t? I don’t want to say that I’m doing everything right, but based on my somewhat reticent approach to love this time around, I think I’ve finally figured out the “right” way to fall in love: let it happen, but not after countless hours of answering each and every “why,” “how,” and “if” that you have.

“Why has it been divorced of logic, devoid of rational explanation and introspection?”

Have you ever heard of the term, limerence? It’s defined as “the state of being infatuated or obsessed with another person, typically experienced involuntarily and characterized by a strong desire for reciprocation of one's feelings.” This is why I spent my early and mid 20’s lovelorn, unstable, and frustrated. This has been my downfall each and every time. Because I feel things so strongly, I presume that my connection to another human must be undeniable and fervid as fuck. In fact, when I started seeing my current beau, I assumed that he’d lost interest relatively quickly because he wasn’t—for lack of a better phrase—constantly up my ass and desiring my attention. Turns out that, no: he’s simply a grown-ass man who respects my space and doesn’t need constant validation. Given that reality, I came to recognize the fact that I don’t require constant validation either, and thus, my codependent streak was ended in a quite un-climactic fashion. (It takes two to tango, and codependency tends to be a negative feedback loop. Kill the loop, kill the codependency.) I’m, once again, not an expert, but I’m going to say that this is the incorrect way to fall in love.

Now that hot, burning passion is out (by the way, I’m not saying that passion is bad—on the contrary, it can be rather healthy—but it must be accompanied by some sort of logic and reason or else you end up dickblind and chasing something that might resemble love but may be entirely wrong for you and you don’t come close to realizing it until it’s too late), what’s left? I mentioned a nice “slow burn” earlier and I’ve come to realize that this may be the defining characteristic of a healthy love. I’m not saying that it has to be so gradual that you don’t feel it, but I think this kind of love can only be unlocked by meaningful conversation and mutual respect.

“Kill the loop, kill the codependency.”

Think about it this way: if you’re constantly open with someone about your feelings and where you want to be, and open to hear about where they are and where they want to be, it’s so much easier to avoid putting them on a pedestal, which so many of us do. If you dig deep to reveal your partner’s weirdo tendencies and they either don’t weird you out or they’re complementary to yours, it’s so much better than staying suspended in this made-up version of them because, back to the first point, you put them on a pedestal. If you’re up front with your boundaries and ask for your partner’s boundaries, this is a way of knowing just how compatible you are and also cultivating the kind of trust and mutual respect that builds a lasting relationship.

I will say—this does not come naturally to me, and finding the balance between my emotional and logical selves can be a bit of a challenge. I’ve decided though to let emotion lead me and logic dictate my actions. While there’s a part of me that would love to blurt out, “move in with me,” I’ve found a comfortable and respectful middle ground by offering a spare key and dedicated toothbrush situation. I’ve never really allowed myself to just “exist,” so though it feels weird to not be pushing for “something” to happen, I’m enjoying the space that life circumstances have afforded me. Do I like it all the time? No, but I’ve made an unfamiliar place quite comfortable by exploring new hobbies (I’m crocheting a scarf), exploring my new city, and spending a lot of time in solitude—shared and alone—to continue to learn more about what can make me a better person and, in turn, a better partner.

Here’s to trying new things and being in love. Here’s to “letting it happen” and celebrating each and every moment instead of trying to beat yourself to the next. Needless to say, I’m excited to see what the next few months have in store.

xo, e.m.