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Dear users,
A big thank you for those who got involved in November's Ultimate Contest, it was a hit! Apologies for those who didn't win, but keep on writing! That's what this is all about.
Circleface "My Search for Love (Whatever the Hell That Is) "
banner to come. 1st place.
A curious thing has happened to me. I seem to have something called a ‘boyfriend’, something that doesn’t seem to appear in the medical dictionary. The growth that is attached to me is tall with blue like orbs and a mop of follicles. He’s not like me and yet is at the very same time. He’s a lot bigger than me for a start, yet somehow not as bright. His speech patterns are sometimes strange and I often see him making violent passes at others of his kind. Though I think the weirdest thing about this condition is the symptoms I have started to contract. My stomach starts to feel all queasy when he’s around, as if small flying insects are swarming inside my gut. My cheeks burn like I have a fever but I don’t feel sick at all. And worst of all, even when he’s not around I can’t stop thinking about our last moment together. At first I was inclined to think he was a brain tumour but when I stumbled onto one of those teenage advice columns I realized I was in love. Which to be honest sounds just as fatal.
Upon learning of my condition I decided to do a little research. Dictionary.com can give me 28 different meanings of this ‘love’. They range from ‘a profound tender feeling of passion’ to ‘a score of zero’, though I think that might just apply to tennis. Now maybe it’s just me, but I don’t feel like I have a ‘profound tender feeling’, that sounds like something a philosopher would say when describing a medium-rare steak. Realising that I was in the deep end of a topic I didn’t know how to float in, I decided further research was needed.
I first turned to religion. Christianity told me that love comes from god, which worried me a little. I’ve never met god, not saying that he’s not a nice guy, it’s just... Well the idea of god giving me love makes me think of a stranger giving me a cold on a bus. I don’t see the cold germs coming, I didn’t ask for the cold germs and well... maybe he should have learnt to use a handkerchief. Are you keeping up with this metaphor? Basically I feel like I don’t have much say when it comes to this god thing. I mean all that ‘love thy neighbour’ crap; did he ever think that my neighbour’s an asshole who likes to do heavy DIY drilling at 8:30 am on a Sunday?
Now Buddhism seemed to have a little more choice involved when it came to love. First we have Karuna, which is compassion and mercy. I have been known to give a friend in need some bus fare, but I don’t think it really gives me the answers I need when it comes to my cancerous lump (my boyfriend). So the second form of Buddhist love is called ‘kama’, which I was very game for indeed. It’s the ‘sensuous, sexual love’; anything with those ‘s’ sounds has to be good right? Wrong. Buddhism class this as an obstacle for enlightenment as it is a ‘selfish’ act. Like with the God thing, I kinda had to wonder about this logic. Have Buddhists never heard of the ‘give and receive’ rule? True the whole ‘giving head to get head’ is a little selfish, but as long as both parties walk away satisfied, is that really selfish love? And in the case of teenaged love, usually neither ends up leaving satisfied; just a little more wide-eyed and sweaty/embarrassed. So this left me with Buddhism option number three: Advesa and maitri, the benevolent love. The love that requires no sex or affection; where you have a detached and unselfish interest in another’s well being. This approach to the subject left me even more confused than before. The thought of a ‘detached love’ seemed a little of an oxymoron. Yet at the same time, by caring for someone am I ultimately caring for myself? When I start to love someone, am I only loving them for my own selfish need to feel loved myself? Heavy stuff, right? I’ve always found Buddhism a little too philosophical for my liking (this coming from someone studying philosophy at A-Level).
So after I had travelled that confusing route of religion, I decided to look in a much cruder place for love. The internet dating site. I chose match.com as my resource, my logic being that with 4.6 million people looking for love at least a few of them must know what it is. I signed up and started browsing through men between the ages of 18 and 45. Judging by their photos, it’s no wonder these people have resorted to displaying themselves like livestock. My first subject was a healthy faced Paul, 26 and living in Manchester. He described himself as a ‘down to earth guy’ looking for a ‘down to earth girl’. He said he was in that place where he was leaving clubs with the same old people at the same old times, and that he wanted something new in his life and that he was going to take charge. So I guess to Paul love is change, a new element. Chris from Bolton however, wants a love that will sit and watch DVDs with him while occasionally going disco dancing (no lie, these are real profiles I’m documenting) which is kind of the opposite to Paul as Chris seems to want keep his same old habits only with a young disco-dancing partner. Again, this isn’t very helpful to me.
So lastly I decided to try the women’s profiles, seeing as women are always described as being in touch with their ‘sensitive side’. Though as a woman myself, I find the only sensitive side I’m in touch with, is the under side of my foot (I’m very ticklish). Never the less, I’m inclined to think my own gender will provide the answers I have been looking for. I started with Leesa, a 35 year old Londoner who advertises that she had “finally realised the knight in shining armour is not going to come knocking on my door”. She wants someone who she can throw into the deep-end at a nightclub with her friends and not have to worry about them, which personally sounds a little like planned indoor drowning. She also wants someone with a good sense of humour and a cheeky smile. Jessica from Manchester also claims she wants someone who can make her laugh, as does Meredith from Leeds. From personal experience, I’ve learnt that you only get those annoying butterflies in your stomach when your partner makes you happy. Laughter makes you happy, therefore a good sense of humour gets you love. You know, I think I’m really starting to get the hang of this love business.
After being sat in front of this computer for 2 hours, I think I’ve come to learn and accept that there is no real meaning to the word ‘love’. It is how you perceive it to be. Whether it’s a religious faith or disco dancing down at the local labour club. Love is a personal journey, something you have to discover for yourself. So I’ve decided to skip the radiation therapy and give this boyfriend thing a go and if things don’t work out then... I still have my match.com account.
dancesandsways "Nothing"
banner to come. 2nd place.
August 23, 2008
Today was a strange day. I say strange because I cannot describe to anyone, not even myself, exactly how I feel about it. Was it scary? Was it fun? Was it unusual? Was it tiring? It was all of these things and none of these things. It was heart wrenching and relieving, it was horrible and it was wonderful—and it all happened at the same time.
Besides, how do I know if I really loved you? How do you know if you really loved me? What is love, really? And how do I know?
Oh, you’ll know, people tell me. But I don’t believe them. How can you just know? It seems impossible to me to be able to tell when you’re in love with someone. Is it that warm and fuzzy feeling? Is it how you can just talk to them? Is it the sex? Is it the connection? Or does it have to be every single one of those factors? I ask myself these questions constantly and never seem to get any answers.
So, anyway. You.
We were sitting together, in my car, our breathing finally calming down. I could smell you, next to me, intoxicating. The CD that you burned me played music through my car, soft and lilting and painful. I could feel you looking at me but I was afraid to look back at you.
“Hey,” you said.
“Mmm?” I murmured.
“I love you,” you said.
I turned to look at you and found that I couldn’t breathe. You were so serious, watching me, and all I wanted to do was laugh and tell you that no, you didn’t love me. How could you love me? You had known me for a month, a month! And you had wife!
Yeah, great job I’m doing improving that situation.
So you told me you loved me. How do I know that you’re telling the truth? How do I know you’re not a manipulative asshole? I asked you this, and you told me that since I’d already had sex with you, what would you manipulate me for? This of course made sense. All I could do was nod. I didn’t know what to say back to something like that. I didn’t want to lie, but I didn’t know the truth.
“I don’t know if I love you,” I finally said.
“That’s what I thought,” you said.
As I drove home that night, the smell of your skin and your cologne still lingering in my car, still feeling your fingers sliding across my skin, I thought about you. I think about you all the time. Is that a sign of love? What are the signs of love? I don’t even think that there are signs of love. Perhaps you don’t gradually fall in love, you just suddenly are in love. Or does it take time? And there are so many different kinds of love, so how can I decide which type of love it is that I feel for you?
At least we can rule out “brotherly”.
Love is such a peculiar thing. I asked you what you thought love was, and it took you so long to answer I rephrased my question.
“How do you know you love me?” I asked.
There were so many things that you said I cannot possibly remember them all. Because of how we can talk, because of that deep level of connection, because of how different our relationship is than any other you have in your life, because of how much you think about me and want me and miss me. But really, what does that mean? It could just mean obsession. It could just mean lust. It could mean absolutely nothing. How are we ever to know for sure?
I feel so horribly lost when I think about it. It is such a vast thing, so difficult to understand. There are so many ways it can be taken, so many ways to look at it. I think about love and I go off on tangents, and end up far away from where I started. Just look at this now! I started off this talking about how strange my day has been, and now I’m debating about what a huge subject love is. It just takes you places you never expected to go.
You say you love me, and I don’t believe you. Yet you say you’ve never lied to me, and I do believe you. I think that perhaps you are projecting the illusion of love onto me. Is that possible? Is it possible to make yourself believe that you are in love? I think so.
I think that because you have never experienced this with someone else you believe that you love me. I’m different than anyone you know. I have different beliefs, different morals (clearly). We think the same way—perhaps this is another factor. Your wife does not think the same way as you, which makes it difficult. I do, and it makes it easy. So are you truly just taking the easy way out? Can you know that you love me? I don’t think you can.
Perhaps one morning you woke up, and you felt in love. No particular reason, you simply felt it. Now wouldn’t you think it was me you were in love with? But what if it weren’t? No, I don’t believe that you love me. I believe that you are projecting an image of love onto me because you want to love me. Because I am fascinating. Because you wish that you could love me, could have me, could hold me. You wish that we could be and we can’t and so you must love me.
If I’m completely honest about this situation, I’m scared. I am scared to death. I like to think that, usually, I am a brave person. But when it comes to you, I’m not. I’m petrified of what could happen, of what has happened, of how I let it go this far without stopping it. I am afraid of loving you. If I fall in love with you, I’m doomed. I will have fallen into a deep, dark pit and there will be no way in hell that I’ll ever crawl my way out. You frighten me. Your passion, your deep emotions, the way that you feel things—it’s so similar to me, to mine. It’s scary. I don’t want to have to deal with this, don’t want to have to think about this.
I never should have gotten in this situation in the first place. I should not even have to be debating with myself about love, because there is no way I could be in love or you could be in love. I hope you realize this eventually, that you don’t love me and it’s better this way. Actually, I hope that I realize that it’s better this way. I already know I don’t love you. Or perhaps I’m simply trying to convince myself that I don’t love you. How can I ever be sure? How can I ever know?
What if I never know what love truly is? What if I walk through my entire life wondering if I’m in love, but never sure?
Maybe if I just let myself feel, I would know. But I’m afraid. I’m afraid of what I would find. Part of me wants to love you and part of me doesn’t. We both know that it would be a disaster.
You don’t even expect an answer from me. You don’t expect anything from me. It’s something I love about you.
See? Then I go and think things like that and wonder if I do love you, if love does exist, if this is what it means. Surely I can love something about you and not love you. Sure I can admire a person’s traits but not admire them as a person. Or does one come with the other? Is it possible to partly love someone? I’ve always thought that loving someone was something you did with your entire being, with every fiber of your soul. Now I wonder. Now I wonder what love really is… is it anything at all? Is it really just chemicals in your brain, according to certain scientists, trying to fool you?
The fact is that I don’t know anything.
And I don’t think anyone else has much of a clue either.
LitteralyFallingForYou "Romantics Unite"
banner to come 3rd place.
Love is something that has been a concept playing on humanity since the beginning of time. We expect love where ever there is human life, or any life for that matter, and yet we receive none. It’s not in our nature to love and yet love is the thing that we crave more than anything else.
As children we beg for our mother’s attention and affection. When we grow older into our teen years, we place ourselves under spotlights so as to seem worthy of an audiences praise and compliments. Once we reach the breaking point in the age campaign, we yearn for someone to want us in whatever way they will, just to be wanted and adored.
Marriage was based on the idea of love. It was designed as a way to devote yourself to the person that you love, that loves you in return. Today we view love in a marriage as the next step in dating or the back up plan if the test comes back positive. We’ve taken marriage and the idea of love so far out of proportion, that when we do stumble upon an actual case of it somewhere in the world, we avoid it and run away with our heels clicking hard against the pavement.
Have we really become so unreceptive of love? We chalk it up as a win to the masses; for we say that they are the ones forcing us to keep on the right track in our careers. Day and night we focus on what it is that we strive for, whether it be the student body president position, that A in Advanced Physics, or getting a promotion to Editor on the Yearbook staff. When a lover does just so happen to stroll by in his wallabies, we forcefully turn our attention back to the goal on the other side of the court.
As the male population matures over time, trading their toy cars for real ones, they begin to notice their feelings towards their opposites in gender. They start to pick up on the fact that they enjoy hearing that one girl’s laugh more so than others, that they can’t help but to smile when seeing that girl from American History smile. Sadly though, they pick up on these things too late. While they were hurling their toy cars over cliffs, we, the women, were attempting to find the meaning of life and coming to terms with the fact that it may very possibly be love.
This thing called love though, what could that really be? I’ve seen acts of kindness before; at times I wonder if that’s love. With love being as simple as that though, should it not be easier to love someone other than ourselves? Or are we really so incapable of the feelings that comes with love?
In fairytales the princess always falls in love with the prince and vise versa. There is a distinct moment in the story that proclaims each of their love for one another. The mass of the world’s population isn’t nearly so lucky due to our living in the real world and what not. We have to pick and prod at what could be a gesture of affection and untangle the truth behind little boys’ words.
We search for love and when it finds us, we don’t know how to deal with it. And the thing is that we think that receiving love should be something to be dealt with. We’ve become so unreceptive of love, that when it comes to us bearing flowers and sweet heart filled words, we quake in our Prada heels.
“Hey,” Jessica turned to me, sitting at my side. “I’ve got something to tell you.”
Shaking my head, clearing my thoughts on the mess that is love, I turned in my seat so as to enhance the conversation. “You’re not pregnant, are you?”
“What?” She made a face similar to that of a sick child. “No, come on. Be serious.”
“Okay, okay. What’s shaking?”
She pulled out a piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to me. It looked faded and worn, as though from another century. Although it was still the same school paper we use today, it seemed ancient. I cautiously opened it, for fear of what was inside being possibly dangerous to my health, and began to read what was written. I’m sure that my eyes must have doubled in size and I know that I began to squeal quite loudly. I could feel myself hopping up and down like a mad woman, but I didn’t care.
“Oh man! I knew he’d get smart sooner or later! Ah, this is fantastic!”
“Heart, go to the back page.” She was cringing.
I flipped the paper over hurriedly, thinking it to be some sort of ploy. Nothing could bring my level of joy down. My eyes scanned the words, finding the proclamations of love to be a bit more eccentric as the note continued, and ended at the signature.
“Brian? Brian wrote this? Not Will?” I sunk back into my seat.
She nodded her head twice, forcing her long dark hair to fall into her face a little. “Did you read the middle part? He insulted me. And then proceeded to continue saying how much he likes me.”
“It wasn’t Will.” I muttered aloud as I quickly scanned the note to the part that she was referring to. There written in Brian’s sloppy hand written font, clearly stated how he thought Jessica to be immature for having such high standards in a companion.
Jessica firmly believes that in order for her to love someone, she must first respect them. The more often I put thought into her belief, the more I both respect and start to believe it as well. Brian, for example, jugs caffeinated drinks by the gallon. Having been affected by the health crazy of ‘08, Jessica knows that he’s probably going to kill over at a ripe young age of 30 from an intense sugar overdose. He knows this, and she can not respect him for that.
William Suckle on the other hand, Jessica adores. He’s smart, funny, charming, and charismatic. Basically he is everything she’s ever wanted in a guy. The thing is though, their best friends. They challenge each other to earn that extra point (even though they both don’t need it) and they’ve gotten to the point where they can tell each other everything. She likes him as more than just a friend though, he hasn’t realized it yet.
“I don’t know what I should do. I don’t like Brian like that. He’s revolting. How do I let him down?”
“You’ve got two options here. You can either ignore this,” I held up the note, now crumbled into a ball. “Or you can face it head on and confront him.”
She sat there for a moment. Even sitting across from her I knew that her heart rate was dramatically intensified than what it had been. Eventually she whispered, “I think I’m going to ignore it.”
When we come to the point in our lives where love meets reality, we chose to live in a fairytale. Rather than confronting the matter of another’s love for us head on, we instead choose to act as though it doesn’t exist. We see the shell of the person proclaiming their love, and refuse to break it open and see what’s inside. Instead we turn our backs to it and pretend it’s not there.
As I turned my attention back to whatever I had been doing before Jessica interrupted, I wondered if she would ever accept love. If later in the day, Will was to fall to her feet and scream his love to her from the highest octave in his voice, if she would accept love then. Perhaps we as women want the fairytale, a man to come riding though the halls in a shiny new sports car to sweep us off our feet. Maybe we do want to love someone that we can respect whether it be for fitness level or charm. But one thing’s for certain, I knew as I shook my head once more, that no one really knows what love is.
And as I feel that everyone was worthy of winning, I am awarding marzipan 4th place for her story "Love".
I could tell you that love is beautiful and that when you fall in it, it always ends happily ever after; but then I would be lying to you and nobody likes that. So I’ll tell you the truth. Apparently the truth will set you free or something so if you’re in prison listen up and listen well.
I’m not saying that love isn’t all the things I said above, I just mean that it doesn’t always turn out that way. Sorry to burst your bubble people, but it‘s rare. People break up, and get divorced all the time; but that doesn’t make it right or make it hurt any less. Love hurts, but it can also heal. As human beings we need to focus more on the healing part and try to forget the hurt aspect.
A lot of people will try to tell you that love is blind but they’re only half right. In my personal opinion love is not only blind but also stupid. Before you get all up in arms about how love is smart let me explain. Love can make you do some pretty stupid things sometimes. Romeo and Juliet anyone? If love were smart you would fall in love with someone who loves you back, respects you and hopefully knows who you are. As we all know this is often not the case especially in the respect compartment. Love being both blind and stupid can cause a lot of problems in our daily life but we do it anyways. We fall in and out of love cause we want to find that someone (not something) that will be there for us through thick, thin and creamy. Some people never find that someone. I know I haven’t but I still hope to find him someday.
True love is a touchy subject. Some people believe in it while others don’t. Ask a married couple and they’ll look dreamily into each others eyes and say “Yes” then kiss dramatically (that might only be newly weds though). However if you ask a lonely bachelor/whatever the girl form of bachelor is he/she may very well tell you that there is no such thing. I’m not here today to say which one is right or wrong because to be frank I have no idea. I believe in love; I’m just on the fence about true love. When I think of true love I tend to think of destiny and fate. This turns me off true love a little because I don’t really believe in destiny or fate. I can’t wrap my head around the fact that we have no control over what happens in our lives, that it is all some how preordained and set in stone. I like to think that I have at least some control over my life, and I’m not a puppet on strings or something. It’s true that sometimes we can’t help who we fall in love with or when we fall out but we do have some control. We can fight for love and work toward it or we can go in the other direction and fight it every step of the way. However before we love someone we usually like them first.
“I really like this guy like, like like him” we’ve all heard that before except maybe with the word girl replacing the word guy. The infamous like like. It’s not quite love and it’s not quite like; it’s stuck in the middle. Sometimes we confuse like like with love and love with like like. Oh and yes I am well aware of the fact that calling it like like is weird or childish (pick one) but I can’t think of another name for it at the moment and it’s fun to call it that, so like like it is. Love and like like are very closely linked to each other because love usually grows out of like like. If you laugh every time I write like like you might as well stop reading right now. I’m really pissing off my spell check now (delete repeated word damm it!) but oh well. Like like is an awkward faze between liking some one and loving them; kind of like (grammatical word indicating that two things are similar) being a teenager, stuck between childhood and adulthood. Imagine not being able to make up you mind if you love someone or not for seven years (welcome to teenage hood).
When we are in love our emotions tend to flair up very easily. A little comment about your hair cut (or lack of comment) can lead to tears, screaming and even break ups. Love makes us very sensitive. It causes us to be very alert of the special someone’s actions; hoping to find a hint that will tell us whether they love or hate us. Their actions can hurt or heal us just like love. We want their attention and love; we care about how they think of us. We place ourselves in their power (I won’t say hands cause of all you dirty minded people out there, you know who you are), letting their actions and words control how we feel. Is that a good or a bad thing? You tell me, cause I have no idea. We do all this because we want to be told that we are beautiful/handsome and that we’re important to them. We read way too much into their actions like “He sat beside me, which means he likes me!”. Sure you laugh now but you’ve all done it.
Love affects us all differently. It causes some of us to annoy the person we love or like like, desperate for any attention from them good or bad. Others won’t even talk to the person they are attracted to because they are shy or because they would rather just watch them (these people are sometimes called stalkers). Some try to hide their feeling by pretending to hate the person or treat them badly so that no one would ever know the truth. The sad few will laugh at everything the person says that sounds remotely like a joke unfortunately I fit into this category sometimes. Of course these examples mostly apply to those who haven’t confessed their true feeling to the person in question.
In short, love is complicated. It is different things to different people. We can only hope that someday (over the rainbow) we’ll figure it all out and laugh about the silly things we did for love. I just have one thing (maybe three) to say to all you single people: never give up hope, be who you wanna be (B-A-R-B-I-E sorry I couldn’t resist) and don’t let anyone tell you any different. As long as your happy (and not doing anything illegal) good for you. Now to all you couples (yes friends with benefits count) out there I say: you lucky bastards. However if your in an abusive relationship I take it back and instead yell “It’s not love(or like like) it’s abuse. Tell someone you trust, leave the abuser and when applicable tell the authorities; you may do this in any order you please just do it. To all of you in prison: sorry I tried my best.
Congratulations to those who won!
We hope to see you guys participating in August 2008's Ultimate Contest!
---youaremysunshine
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Ultimate Contest November 2008
it was fun to read. 