An Essay on Love

So here’s my question. If everyone is so obsessed with finding love, making movies about love, writing songs about love, talking about love, analyzing love, sometimes even stalking love…- if everyone wants to fall in love so much, why is it so hard to then? I mean, logic dictates that if there’re a bunch of people looking for the same thing in other people – I think it’s safe to say that at least half of the world’s population are in search of The One – then should this not increase (drastically so) the odds of therefore falling in love?

I liken it to sex. (I briefly digress here. Has anyone ever read the menus at Books First? The quotes are hilarious. One says, Pizza is a lot like sex. When it’s good, it’s really good, and when it’s bad, it’s still pretty good. He. He. He. Back to not digressing.) If you look at the statistics, it is incredibly easier to get laid than to fall in love. That’s because everyone wants that, too. Especially if you’re a nympho. (Which is why prostitutes have more business than priests.) Sex is easy to find. But according to existing literature and film, all whores (I use this word loosely. Haha, pun intended!) are actually looking for meaningful sex, just want love because they’ve been scarred and all one night stands are merely an expression of some deep inner need to be committed to – you got it – The One.

Hmmm. Ok. So what’s going wrong with the Great Love Search? I’ve heard a couple of theories. One is that people look for love in the wrong places. Well then, shouldn’t some benevolent one who has reached the final destination (Happily Ever After) publish a list of conducive places where love can be found? (Aha! Could this be the theory behind the Lonely Hearts Column? And if there’s anywhere that love should be found, should it not be here? Hehe.) And really. Why is there a ‘right’ place to find love? Again, I refer to existing literature and film that generally supports the principle that love can and should be found anywhere. So now. So now what if you’re not there when Aphrodite’s going a-hunting? What if you miss the crucial moment when your destiny was being altered and you are now doomed to loneliness forever? (Who watches Valentine?)

Another is the ‘Ýou haven’t met The One’ philosophy. Okay, really. Am I supposed to believe that there is ONE person handpicked for me in the entire world, the only person I can be truly happy with? That sounds like male cow fertilizer to me. Again, what if you never meet this person because they’re in Bermuda, and you live in…not Bermuda, and you never visit because of the tales of horror surrounding that general geographical location. I’m just saying. And how do you know The One? Do they wear a sign? In a parallel universe, perhaps. And what if you get married and then meet The One, or who you think is The One, split up, meet another The One…are you then pre-conditioned to a remake of Elizabeth Taylor’s life? I think anyone can be The One. You’re the one who picks The One. They’re YOUR One. I’m still in the process of tearing this theory down, though. Give me time.

And then there’s the ‘Don’t look for love and it’ll find you.’ HA! EVERYONE’S LOOKING FOR LOVE. So screw that. I laugh in the face of that untruth. (Refer to 2nd line of paragraph. 1st word.)

I think that if there’s anything Sex and The City taught me, it’s that don’t bother looking for love before the age of 30. Anyone who is in love before then is the exception to the rule, i.e. not you. Good men are a dying breed – because they’re getting closer and closer to 70, haha, and are thus harder to find at 21.

I have no conclusive end to this essay. It was just a rant inspired by watching romcoms at 3 in the morning. Can I just say that Hugh Grant is such a beautiful, beautiful man, in spite of his DUI episode, and I could be quite happily convinced to have his babies. Or at least, try making them. See? Demand and Supply. I’m just saying.


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