Love is a many-splendoured thing…
Or is it road trip from hell?
Love triggers off butterflies in the tummy. It’s supposed to make one feel poetic, nurturing and romantic. It’s supposed to inspire, elevate, uplift.
But is this a fleeting feeling, a temporary phase experienced in the first flushes of love, a complete illusion, the stuff of romantic novels, a figment of some lovesick fool’s blurred imagination?
When I fell in love (or rather what I mistook for love), the outcome was disastrous.
By the end of it, I wanted to pull his hair out.
I was disappointed. The hard reality came down with a thud. The butterflies in the stomach vanished, making way for restless bile. Understanding gave way to rage. Poetic verses metamorphosed into belligerent diatribes.
So was this what love was meant to be? A shallow chemistry, a fatal attraction, a silly infatuation. Maybe I only saw the glitter, without investigating beyond the façade.
Did I really have anything in common with this person? Did we have something to talk about once the passion fizzled out? Could he really capture my imagination or I his? Were we both blinded by illusion?
Yes, we both were. And fine day the realization dawned. The cobwebs cleared. We parted. I felt free to explore and anticipate a new love that would be honest, ethereal and free.
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on Friday, September 24th, 2004 at 1:58 am
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Ummm…..