Love
Someone told me once I’m in love with being in love, not with the person I was with, nor the other one I was cheating with at that time. I got upset and told them it wasn’t true. But this was many years back, and I wasn’t being responsible.
I went from being bullied in my childhood to being popular in other circles, of course I consumed all the love I could get since I didn’t get any for years and felt unworthy. Being loved made me feel like I was worth something to someone, appreciated. It gave me a reason to keep going.
And so I went on with my life for a while, from one relationship to another. If I was without one, I’d have a person that I would keep my focus on, my love was all over them. Even if they didn’t know about it or reciprocated it.
Now being much older, and in a stable marriage for a longer time I’m starting to realise that person might have been right. The realisation grew slowly inside of me while I was watching several romances develop on TV. I caught myself smiling whenever a couple ended up together. Feeling hurt seeing couples drift apart.
We’ve had an open marriage for some time and we’ve had our share of romantic moments which I still reminiscence about, but specifically a certain first date I had out of my marriage. It was like in the movies, and felt like that too. I loved the idea of them, not the person, I found out eventually. They were telling me the same, I still didn’t believe them at that time.
Someone new crossed my path, I was greeted with admiration and kindness. We would meet eventually but I didn’t know what to expect. Subconsciously I found myself fantasising what it could become, loving the idea of it, not the person itself again. Eventually it didn’t grow into anything more which is fine, but I still feel myself searching for love and romance.