Feelings of love can be so exciting, and some might say exhilarating. But is it true love?
Obviously, that is the goal. Yes, little flings here or there and even a relationship just built around sex can be fun, but romantic love—truly falling in love with someone—can be difficult to attain or even define.
Sure, you might think you love the person, but how do you know it’s the real deal?
Unless thoughts of your love consume your every move, your every thought, turning you into some sort of hellish demon, we’re going to say you probably just “like” the person.
Unless thoughts of your love consume your every move, your every thought, turning you into some sort of hellish demon, we’re going to say you probably just “like” the person.
If we know anything about love, we know it’s supposed to leave you frustrated, with the wild, black eyes of a passion-filled romantic hero from a gothic novel. Are you dangerous, brooding, and cold? Do you ooze malevolence and reek of revenge?
Hmmmm….didn’t think so.
Did you pledge your life to attaining status and power just so you wouldn’t “degrade” your one true love, returning with a small fortune just big enough to wage a cruel vendetta and destroy all those that she is now associated with and their next of kin?
Nope.
But I assume you at least tried to create a burning jealousy within your true love, marrying one of her closest friends and then siring a son for the sole purpose of marrying him off to her daughter, thus gaining control of her estate so then you can rub it in her face with the hopes that you drive her insane?
Sorry, it’s probably not love, then.
So what is it?
I don’t know, probably just a stomach bug.
If you’re not partially responsible for the wracked up guilt and anxiety that probably caused or at least contributed to your love’s death in some way, then we don’t know what to do with you.
Unless your love’s death throws you into a wild frenzy, causing you to disrupt her funeral so you can sneak a clump of your hair into her locket before she is buried, then something tells me it might just be a crush.
Or if you are not out in the late hours of the night, bribing a sexton to help you dig up her grave so you can see your love’s face once again, or having him remove the side of her coffin so that in the event of your death, your coffin can be altered allowing you and your love’s remains to commingle for all eternity, then keep trying, sonny.
And finally, if you haven’t returned and desecrated the hallowed spot for a second time, this time alone, with the soul purpose of either giving her one last embrace or dancing with her bones, or even getting so close to burying yourself alive before you suddenly hear the ghost of your true love sigh (which doesn’t scare you, but gives you a sudden sense of relief) causing you to feel “unspeakably consoled,” then it might just be “lust,” not love.
Sorry, but Heathcliff sets a pretty high bar.