0
Share on bsky
Genuine, deep love is a beautiful thing.
You know the type I’m talking about.
The love that sees you in the trenches with a partner, dealing with all that life throws at you. The kind of love that strengthens, even when your body changes and age starts to become visible. The love that faces hard conversations and deals with challenges. The love that allows you to laugh with each other, at each other and yourselves. The kind of love that’s passionate about the mind, the spirit, the soul, and not just the body. The rawness and messiness that true vulnerability exposes. The type of love that weathers the hardship and turmoil. Can handle the truth. The love that stands strong and quiet, dignified and unwavering, when a partner faces illness and dying. A love that doesn’t die with them.
Oh, you thought I meant the heady love with all it’s burning hormones and chemicals running rampant? The love that has you so hot and bothered that you want to jump their bones more than breathe? The type of love that’s filled with happy, smiling faces, as the weeks, months, and years cruise by without difficulties? The kind of love where masks are important because honesty is shrouded in fear? The fairy tale of two halves finally becoming fulfilled and now being whole? The love we’ve been conditioned to believe is love and anything else is not enough.
This may be the start of something, but it’s not love. It’s tinkering around the edges. It’s swimming in the shallow end of the pool. It’s rose-coloured glasses masking the truth. It’s a veil that, at some point, will be ripped off. And the reality is, if you’re not prepared for the challenges, the difficulties, the changes, the loss, grief, and at times pain and sadness…you’re not ready for love.
So, this brings me to the question: Is it actually them you love, the idea of them, or do you simply fear being alone?
It’s a big question, isn’t it? And one far more people should reflect on. Being honest in answering this question could save years of heartache. Let’s not conflate the feel-good hormones with genuine feelings of love. Sometimes those feel-good hormones will lead you to a healthy love, and other times, it will lead you to connect with someone for all the wrong reasons. Let’s not mince our words; good sex is important, but having a strong sexual attraction and the ability to f*ck each other’s brains out is nowhere near enough, because attraction isn’t love. Chemistry isn’t love. Sex isn’t love. It’s part of the recipe, but it lacks all the ingredients. It’s like baking a chocolate cake without the baking powder and chocolate; it may satisfy your appetite for a while, but it’s never going to tantalise your taste buds long-term.
We’ve all been there, let’s be honest. We have this person in front of us and we think damn, they might be the one. But here’s the harsh truth: if we are looking at this person when, in most cases, those early heady days are blurring our clarity, we are bound to confuse our feelings. If we don’t feel whole within ourselves and see them as fulfilling us, we are bound to confuse our feelings. If we fear being alone and think being with someone, anyone, is enough, we are bound to confuse our feelings. If we have some arbitrary checklist in our head and someone ticks the boxes on paper, we are bound to confuse our feelings. If the idea of someone obscures the reality of who they really are because our need for finding someone, being desired, feeling whole, not being alone, and even distracting ourselves from dealing with our “baggage,” insecurities, and fears overshadows the truth, we are kidding ourselves.
This isn’t love; it’s settling. And honestly it comes from the darkest parts of ourselves—that desperate fear of not being chosen. It’s true, as humans we need connection and whilst romantic connection can be lovely, it’s never without challenges, and it’s not the only form of connection.
Real love is a slow burn. A slow undressing of the mind, heart, and soul. The body with all it’s temptations is just the wrapping paper. It’s not the butterflies buzzing around in our belly. Oftentimes, those intense connections with those butterflies and instant attractions are all wrong for us. They are familiar to previous chaos we’ve experienced. They blind us to the reality because we so suddenly lose ourselves. We create scenarios in our head, and sometimes we build it up to be something it absolutely is not. Generations of conditioning are hard to undo. Beliefs around love are not always healthy, and too many of us lack the awareness to differentiate our feelings for the person, the idea of them, and our fears about being alone.
I get it. It’s confusing. But more than that it can be so powerful, all encompassing, and addictive.
This was me years ago. My feelings were so consuming that I didn’t, couldn’t, see the forest from the trees. The burning attraction and chemistry so acutely passionate, I was all in. My rose-coloured glasses so firmly attached to my face, I saw things in him that sadly were not there. Don’t get me wrong; there were some wonderfully beautiful moments in there, and he captivated me, but there were parts of him, the situation, the relationship, that I either couldn’t see, chose not to see, or refused to see. I thought he was my future; after the ending of a long-term marriage, I thought the universe gifted me with this man who could fulfil every part of me. I thought the obvious obstacles would suddenly remove themselves because this was perfect, right? This was meant to be, and I would live happily ever after.
It was meant to be, but not for the reasons I thought. He was my catalyst. This man reminded me of my desirability as a woman, my innate beauty and essence. He opened me up in ways I could have never imagined, and that’s intoxicating. It was exhilarating, with a potent mix of lust, energy, and craving that never seemed to satisfy. It was like waking up from a coma and seeing the vibrant colours and feeling everything so acutely. It also had me hanging on the precipice. I thought all those heady feelings were love, excitement, anticipation, with a little bit of magic, and whilst there was some of that, I didn’t realise at the time how close I was to the edge. Because those obstacles, and the truth of that man standing in front of me, I refused to acknowledge, and they were about to push me over the cliff.
And that fall was devastating.
I understood with a harsh and painful reality that I needed to do the work on myself; otherwise, I would end up in this space again. I had to grieve my losses. Learn to fulfil myself. Overcome the fear of being alone. I had to search within rather than externally. Understand that I could be completely happy alone. I realised with such clarity that I would never ever accept mediocrity again.
That I didn’t want someone to be my cake because I could bake my own, but if they had the right ingredients they could be the frosting on top of my delicious cake. A cake I’d crafted meticulously with all my self-love, self-belief, and inner fulfilment. But that frosting would take time to create. It wouldn’t be a generic pre-made brand but rather a concoction of beautiful ingredients that pique my interests, and the more I taste, the more I explore my feelings about them. There may be tempting little tasters along the way, but I’m not desperately searching the baking isle for frosting; indeed, I don’t need the frosting. It would be a lovely addition; it could add a little something special to my cake if it was the right recipe, the perfect mix of my favourite frosting ingredients, but I would rather have my cake without frosting than the wrong frosting.
Some of us repeat mistakes over and over again. Others take the time and space needed to learn and heal our wounds. Some would say I’m too independent now and maybe even dismissive of love, but I don’t agree with that. I’m simply not searching because I’m happy in my life and my own skin. I don’t look at every single man I meet as a potential partner. I’m friendly and enjoy the company of an emotionally intelligent, witty, and interesting man. I love the banter of intelligent, funny, open, and even cheeky conversation. I may even be a little flirty in a harmless and unintentional way. And if something develops along the way, I’m up for that, but I don’t need it. I’m happy with the flow.
Next time you’re staring at the person in front of you, with all those chemicals, hormones, and feelings running through you like a freight train, take a breath and reflect. Is it them in their reality and where they are in their life right now that attracts you? Not the version you think you could create. Not the version you’d like them to be. But the version they are right now. Because anything else is not real and simply the idea of them you have created.
Does the fear of walking your path alone have any bearing on your feelings and thoughts? Because if it does, your clarity will be clouded, and you will likely settle. And that isn’t the flow of love; it’s the subtle panic of fear.
~
Read 4 comments and reply