Friday, June 14, 2013

LOVE OR SOMETHING LIKE IT

I step outside to spark a fag and hear the sounds of strife.

"Quit talking to me that way!" she yells. "You're the one being an asshole!"

"I'm an asshole?" he shouts in reply. "You better slow that roll before you really piss me off."

"Or what? You can get the fuck outta here if you don't like it!"

"Fuck you!" And a door slams, a car starts, tires squeal.

Sometimes I miss being in love.

Being single has its advantages. You can listen to the same song on iTunes 11 times in a row and scratch your ass as you please while crying, no questions asked. You can stay up past 2 a.m. reading in bed, no worries. If you want to window-shop on Fab till dawn or do jumping jacks and lunges and tricep dips, knock yourself out. No one gives a rat's ass what you do. It's the beauty of being single.

Beauty, of course, comes with a price. In this case the coin is emotion, or the lack thereof. When there is no one to love on the journey it becomes quite easy to stop caring, period. Think of life as a tedious road trip: the drive may be monotonous but a good companion can make it interesting; you're more likely to enjoy the scenery, more apt to stop at cool places to eat and pit stop. When you're making the cross-country drive by yourself, it's easier to resort to bad chain restaurants and who-cares motels. You just want to get where you're going, and fuck the frills.

When you love someone you're going to argue; two people can only rub up against each for so long before annoyances emerge. Most of them are petty, and so are the arguments, but depending on the day and the mood, even those can flare into shouting matches like the one I overheard. If you're willing to love someone you have to be willing to put up with their shit, and sometimes it's ugly. It doesn't mean the world's coming to an end. It means there's real emotion involved, not some sanitized concept of what love is supposed to be.

About an hour after Mr. Fuck You drove away in a huff, he came back. Ms. Get The Fuck Outta Here ran out to meet him. They hugged and went upstairs. I slipped in the earbuds, listened to "Hide and Seek" 11 times in a row and waited in silence for the dawn. It's all for the best. Of course it is.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Nice.