I was just thinking this morning whilst doing the kids chores because they are off out doing other things … what is love?
I know that I love my kids, even the eldest who, at times, I really detest, I still love him. I couldn’t just watch whilst someone did harm to him, I don’t think I could anyway. I loved my mum, when she died in 1986 I was heartbroken, I cried uncontrollably for such a long time and for months afterwards I would burst into tears at the drop of a hat. For a while, I did think I loved my wife but that just went. I shall always feel related to her but not love.
I have had three boyfriends/partners in my life, did I love them?
Not sure, you see, love is such a strange thing to work out and I am not sure I am qualified.
My first, Neil, I was certainly infatuated with him. He was young, cute, tall and was good in bed. I think, if I had thought he loved me, I could have loved him but I am not sure I really allowed myself to.
Simon was sort of my second if I forget the 7 months of Nick first! Simon loved me, I am certain of that, it was something he made a point of telling me the first time we met in the real world and not online. All I know about how I felt was that it made me feel warm and comfortable that he loved me and needed me and maybe that was a kind of love? Somehow though, I still felt like a fraud. Because I can’t be certain of what love is, how do I know that the feelings I have are real love and not just some sort of mock up of it?
Lastly there was Nick and he too, I am certain of it, loved me, probably still does but, I don’t know how I feel about him, I certainly see him as more than just a friend, I must do because I feel awkward around him and I don’t feel that with any of my friends. Was that love? No, well, I am starting to think it was no because, well, love is something we are meant to know we are in and if I can’t be certain then logically I can’t be. I care about him deeply, it is though he shall always be part of me in some way but those feelings seem to be more akin to the way I feel about the kids than they do to how I should feel about a lover.
My conclusion he is thatI feel my mum dyeing killed something in me, it screwed my ability to ever really let myself love someone again because I couldn’t go through that pain again, that makes sense, it isn’t nice but I think it may be true. This, I guess, makes me a bit of a bastard because the conclusion is, any guy I allow to fall in love with me is not going to get 100% of me back, seems to be like a good reason for not doing relationships or, perhaps, I am wrong and just have not met the guy that will push me through that barrier I feel I have been so close to?
Anyway, an interesting thought for the day.