Can Love be that Beautiful?
A friend of mine couldn't wait to talk to me. He has found the love of his life. The girl in question is a few years older than him, and they have known each other for 34 hours.
is 34 hours enough to say that you have found your true love, your true love? I'm not sure. I mean, I'm sure they have a lot in common and they had a good time chatting and all, but is it love?What is love?
I've covered this a time or two, mostly because I really beleive that I will be the last person to ever experience this thing, this amazing feeling. Hell, I might not ever know it. But it confuses me that my friend had found it. He extoled the girl's virtues, knew a amazing amount of personal information with her. He apparently spent his weekend on MSN with her. I mean, don't get me wrong. I don't doubt that he has feelings, and that he enjoys her company. There isn't a little voice in the back of myhead wishing for the distruction of such a union. * There usually is, that is called being bitter*
They live four short hours away, him on the tip of Vancouver Island, she in the middle. He jokingly suggested that they meet at a Tim Hortons at a half way point, and she declined. " Nervous."
So, they talked so more. My friend tired really hard to discribe what he was feeling, but it couldn't come out. That is something I am familiar with. I have tried to get people to explain this feeling, and the closest thing they tell me is that I will know one day. It is also a belief that loveand hate are closely linked, so that confuses me too. Does that mean that I love the guy I hated that played opposite me in football? They are both heated emotions, love and hate.
The one thing that was my friend was able to convey to me was that the feeling was beautiful, like a rose. I had to point out, in my particular way, that roses have thorns. Of course, he pushed that idea away. Something so pure, so untainted like the way he was feeling couldn't be wrong.
Then there is me. I kept looking for the place where the magician kept the trained pigeons. Something so good is foreign to me. I wonder, often, why I look at it like that. Why I can't be comfortable to not see things.
For almost a hour he told me all about this girl andthen I asked the crucial question: " Have you seen a picture?"
Of course, the ranting started there. " I don't need to see a picture! She is perfect."
It seems tht life has a way of turning the knife.
It was the perfect girl that asked first for a picture. HE obliged, even went out and bought a digital camera. He spent the day snapping away, taking pics of everything, including himself. He happily put them onto his computer, emailed them away, and waited.
and waited.
It was a day and a half that the perfect girl came back and told him that he was nice, but that she was thinking about getting back with her ex. Did he mention in the numerous facts that she had a ex? Nope, because she said she didn't.
So much for all of that.
I guess the hunt for love is still on. But thatsituation waa brutal. And I wonder why I don't beleive in it...