Love has always been taught to me as a means to an end… a relationship, a marriage, a heartbreak, or, ultimately, death. So, what is love without a destination? Is it allowed to be called love?
For being so set on the idea of it, as a society we have a very dichotomous view of love – torn between the great romances and the long-lasting ones. The times I’ve felt – what I grew up to think of as – love, it never got the chance to become human, condemned to the realm of thought. And the limerence can be so painful and frustrating, that it becomes more real than any tangible experience, romanticising the impossibility of it. Love gives you a story, and therefore, it gives you a role.
Why is it that, having grown up with two examples of lasting, secure, committed love, I seem to want quite the opposite? Perhaps it is my young age, and the age-appropriate desire for excitement or the lingering belief in destiny. Perhaps it is my inexperience that makes me unable to see love as something that survives reality. Or perhaps, it is my innate hopefulness and optimism that leads me to reject the striking normalcy of it.
But can beautiful, enchanting, story-like feelings last if in practical terms there is no willingness to commit? The irony is that “commitment”, translated to Spanish, is “compromiso”, which is more similar to “compromise” in English. Compromise means mutual concession, an agreement to fulfill certain standards by adjusting our behaviour and interests. So is love, in a way, a compromise of our freedom in order to reassure another that they are our priority?
What if the only way to preserve that state of admiration, infatuation, passion, or … love, is by never making it subject to the strict constraints of possession? By loving without a means to an end, we avoid ever having to give up a part of ourselves and resenting our lover for it.
I once read a book about a man whose life was so ordinary, yet his love-story was the one extraordinary thing to happen to him.
Our views on love can reflect our most intimate truths and deepest fears. Because who are you when it comes to the quest for love? Are you brave, outspoken, or shy? And how do you choose to love? Is your love passive, passionate, or vulnerable?
And what if once the quest is over, so is the possibility of love? Literature and film only guide us that far. Once commitment and stability settle in, there is no place for uncertainty? Adrenaline dies down, and security takes its place. So, again I ask, what is love?
Loving without a means to an end, might not be love at all, or it might be love at its purest form. It all depends on our definition, our life experiences, our priorities. Love, to me, in the next few years might be just that, the expectation of something extraordinary and inhuman.
Maybe I cling on to transcendental love because life can be painfully real at times, and having found depth and connection in the people besides me, I’ve found myself to be enough. The only mystery that remains, is that of romantic love, and I might not be ready to solve it yet. This quest for love, might actually be a quest for meaning, for something that might not be magical or preordained, but lies within myself.
