Monday, October 28, 2013

Love, finally the definite definition

I don’t know about you, but lately I’ve met tons of good people who don’t believe in love at all.

Well, okay, I’ve only met on person like that - but she was terribly meaningful to me and she was also a really good monkey, deep down. But she seems to know a lot of other monkeys who are just like her and think that love is just extra sticky trouble added to an otherwise quite nice evening of heavy humping.

The general consensus among those apes is that most people are walking around like perfect idiots looking for love like a bunch of emotional zombies - crawling and limping around, holding their bleeding heart out, trying to find warm bodies and bite off their lips Romero style - but with Adele playing in the background.
They may be right. I don’t know. But surely, to have that discussion, we need a good definition of what LOVE really is, don’t we?

You have to buckle up for that one.  

I don’t think love is the unbearable attraction between two persons. I think that’s the most common (and probably most boring) concept of love that’s been sold to us by pop-corns manufacturers. I totally understand that people would question that definition.  Everybody gets that, the attraction. You don’t need to be in love to be madly attracted to someone. You just need to drink too much Jägermeister at the bar and, BOOM!, game’s on. 

I think love addicts and love skeptics are doing basically the same thing any given evening. Their Fridays look exactly the same. I even believe the love skeptics are doing a better job at the mechanic of love. They’re more in control, less emotional and reach faster better stronger that point when everybody involved in the room wants to scream GODDAM EUREKA!

But here is the difference.

You’re ready?

Love is not a feeling and it’s not an extra layer of reality. It’s not a veneer that makes an experience stands out. It’s not just giving extra meaning to the actions we take.

It’s going to be hard to digest, you realize that?

Love is actually changing the structure of the reality we live in. I mean actually as in... actually! Like, there was an apple, and now it's a banana, and all the scientists are scratching their balding head going like... "where did the bloody apple go?" (I imagine them being British scientists, for some reason).

Okay, let sit back. Breathe two good ones. And then, let’s resume the definition of love. One... two!
Love is not a nicer way to kiss at the end of the movie.  It's our only way to rewrite, remodel, change the world around us and our own destiny. And the destiny of everybody involved.  This is why it's such a serious business and shouldn't be taken lightly. People will die. People will suffer. Babies will be born. Parents will pull their hair out. Russia will be invaded. Kings will fall. And the world won't be the same ever again. 

Okay, I’ll try one more time with a Bob metaphor (I love Bob metaphors).

If you’re not in love, and just get wasted at the bar until it’s hard to make the difference between desire and the real thing, all you’re going to do is put on 3D glasses and enjoy a great HD super IMAX true 3D show. But when the show is over, nothing around you has changed. You remain the same old Bob with the same old hangover and the same old set of half embarrassing half funny stories to tell.

If you’re in love, you’ve just reset all the clocks all at once and transformed Bob and his reality by re-colorizing and reshaping everything and everybody he ever knew.

It's like pressing the reset/reboot button. But in the meantime, I’ll have another Jägermeister, thank you!

Oh, but wait, this post isn't finished yet. Forgot to tell you my definition of love.

Love (noun or verb depending on how long's the night) : the ability to press the reset button, and change everything you are and everything she is through a perfect moment like looking at her while she sleeps. Handle with care.

NB: Write your own definition of LOVE in the comments bellow and I'll copy them in the body of this post as they come. *Intrigued*

Saturday, October 26, 2013

To Have it and then... to Have it not

I met somebody really nice last night at a birthday party. And as per usual with me, before you knew it, all discussions tended to flow toward the definition of romance and relationships.

The funny thing when you’re 40 + and you meet with other dogs your own age, all you talk about is kids, divorce, custody, relocation, who get to keep the microwave - and later in the evening, the wine helping maybe, you inevitably go to that more dangerous territory of the downside of romance and the loss of love.

When you’re 40, you have at least one HUGE romance behind you. (NB: If you don’t, comment on this post, give me a way to contact you, and we talk).  40 + people, we share that experience of being madly in love with someone, being ready to reschedule our entire existence for that person, abandoning all sense of self to become a “us”, and then, fast forward to many years later and a bunch of kids, when you would gladly strangle that motherf**ker.

What happened? Is there a common curse? How can we go from universal lovers to perfect enemies and divorcees?

Is there a truth to the saying that all women think they will change their partner and hate us for failing and that every men wish their partner would never change and hate you for all your transformations.

What is it?

I really believe we’re a monogamous creature with a tendency for extracurricular activities.  I just wonder why we have to fall out of love - and most importantly, why ?

My ex – God bless her, she’s the perfect ex, seriously, she deserves a medal! – is very pragmatic about it. Her theory is that you only need to love someone long enough to make babies and stick around until you kids can manage to open the fridge all by themselves.  After that, all you need is alimonies, a gym card, and a low carb diet.

My theory? I don’t have one. I’m just like David Attenborough observing chimps long after their honeymoon, when they wouldn’t eat each other fleas anymore, even if you paid them in bananas for it.

And then, when the bar was closing, the person I was talking to, she had like this brilliant idea that might fix it all.

It’s a difficult one, but it makes a lot of sense. The real trick, she said, is to manage the delicate transformation from “high burn passionate love” to “slow burn regular love” without collapsing the soufflé.

It’s like the emotional equivalent of coming out of hyperspace speed without hitting an asteroid. And she said some people are just able to do that.  To understand that passionate love was the fire starter but that the rest of their life will be run on everyday love, a more reasonable, less vibrant, state of being together. Yeah that’s right. She was talking about those other motherf**kers you see coming out of the movies still holding hands after twenty years of common life and still talking to each other in full sentences that contain no traces of passive aggressivity. And they walk to their car on the parking lot and drive away to a galaxy far far away in the suburbs, silently hoping Billy Junior will score high on his SAT. 

Those chimps, they might look boring, but they really deserve their bananas! 

Tuesday, October 22, 2013

Dating Boot Camp

You don’t have time to blog. Oh come on, man. You have a mission. You have to get ready. This is not a beginner’s game. It’s at least the 12,000th time you line up for that ride. 

You need to exude confidence and ooze charm like goo coming out of a rotting body.

Can you at least use better metaphors!

It all started with a victory dance after you hanged up your phone. The person you like and got to known in a biblical sense wants to try the same roller-coaster again. You have like a million things to get right before you join her for another go at the amusement park.

Let me think.

You have to get fitter, younger, nicer, cleverer, and you have about 4 days to complete all that.

Three, four: Confidence!

Last time was easy. You didn’t know each other. You didn’t expect anything. You had nothing to prove. It wasn’t a date. It was accidentally colliding into each other at the bar and then finding your way to the beach just by bouncing around into walls and people.

Things are different now. Dating is a more complex sport. It involves expectations, tact, and finesse while holding the door or ordering freaking shrimps cocktails with the appropriate Chardonnay.

Good thing you don’t believe in the “be yourself” philosophy. Being yourself is the last thing you want on that menu. When is the last time “being yourself” got you anything else than catastrophe? Think hard about it. Bring up all your previous fails. Even the really recent ones. Yeah, that’s right, my boy. You better start working on your Sean Connery impressions. Shaken not Stirred! You freaking idiot!

You’re in the wrong movie altogether. You’re Napoleon Dynamite and you need to cocoon up and butterfly out as Ryan Gosling. And practicing the right dance move won’t cut it either.

But you have to stop typing this and go do ten hard push-ups... and maybe grow some extra hair on that balding patch.

Good luck to you. 

Sunday, October 20, 2013

The Importance of having someone to boil your water

You phone her back.

Phoning is a big deal, right? Texting and facebooking, well, that’s prudent. It’s funny that. You can collide and be with someone totally, and then, poof, it’s done, morning comes, showers are taken, coffees are drunk, goodbyes are said and just dialing her number becomes a major struggle.

You phone her back, I said.

You’re in the strange zone. As I said in a post earlier, you’re puppies no more. You were both running around chewing cherry chewing gum and talking John Hughes movies when shoulder pads were in fashion.

In other words, you’re a couple dinosaurs reaching each other on smartphones.

“Oh, hello, hi,” you say, like you’re all surprised and accidentally fell and stumbled on her phone number and speed dialed it by mistake.

“Oh, yeah, hello!” she says, and then she laughs the exact same laugh you liked so much the other night, and you’re thinking, bingo, laughing’s great, man. You remember all the good things. How she slid out of bed and how beautiful she looked when she did. How she made a coffee in your kitchen and brought you one. And then, she says she’s sorry for getting so tipsy the other night, and honestly you don’t remember exactly when that was a problem and you go like, ouch! You start wondering if telling you that she had too much wine at the bar isn’t a polite way to tell you that whatever followed was a big mistake, including the coffee she brought you in the morning.

You say, “oh, no problem. No problem at all! I didn’t even notice you were so drunk.”

And then, you slap your forehead and wish life was like one of your manuscript and you could just immediately edit the stupid dialogues.

She confirms she was well drunk. But she also says you were really funny, and it was a really great night and if you were on a football field, you would just do one of those great knee slides like you just scored a goal. Instead, you just say that you had a really great night too, and sit down on the corner of your bed and scratch your beard thinking real hard about your next move.

You say, “we should do that again sometime.”  She says, “yeah, sure, we should.”

You’re a freaking genius!

You hang up after talking next weekend outings, parties, replays and the right bar where to locate that.

By chance, there’s a song from when shoulder pads were in fashion playing on the radio. You pump up the volume and do a silly penguin dance, until your phone rings. You’re scared you jinxed it with your victory dance and you’re sure she’s phoning you back to tell you that her grandma just self-combusted and that she’s going back to London and she will never see you again.

Instead, it’s a guy from your phone company telling you you’re an esteemed costumer.

Man, you’re so popular you should be a brand.

Friday, October 18, 2013

Voodoo Love

You don’t believe in real magic. Too bad for you!

Magic does exist. It’s powerful and destructive. Do you really think two perfect strangers could be brought together if some magic wasn’t involved?

Man, if you believe that, you’re so naive, it hurts.

We’ve lost touch with the complex material that makes reality, and how to interact with it. We think it’s all economics. We think it’s all biology. We think it’s physics. The truth is that we’ve been sold a version of reality that’s as exciting as a dead sardine. And some of us are just struggling to emancipate from it and well ready to be called mad to pass on the message that there’s something beyond what your eyes can see, what you fingers can touch, and what your nearest pharmaceutical company want to sell you.

Reasonable people are so boring - and so wrong at the same time - they should be sent well into a black hole and see how the alternated state of their reality look like when turned into a smoothie of time and space.

Einstein tried to tell them. Those two things we most believe in, time and space - I lie right now beside you, you tell me about how boys used to abuse you a long time ago -, are not even reliable constants.  So imagine the reliability of your uncle Dwayne telling you that witchcraft and magic are just bogus!

Let me get back to the premise of this post. Magic does exist. And it’s complex and extremely dangerous. If you ever want to survive it, you have to follow those two basic rules:  don’t use it if you don’t know exactly what you’re doing. Don’t disturb things you cannot put back into place.
If you break any of those two rules: big deal!

We’re emotional creatures. Our emotions change the world around us. You transmit shitty thoughts, everything become shitty around you. You transmit adequate thoughts, everything get brighter in your life. What we call magic is the ability that some of us have to change the emotional patchwork of people we care most about. And by doing so, changing the texture of reality.

Sometimes, we want that the obvious given reality – you don’t want me, you don’t like me – changes into that dreamed updated version – you want me, you love me! We would do anything to update that software. So we use magic. Big mistake!

By doing so, we disturb the nature of reality exactly the same way a time traveler would by taking a dump in a field of prehistoric daisies or by stopping the assassination of JFK.

The price to pay, you ask?

Illness, weakness, DEATH, if you’re to believe the tarot cards of my mother.

But then again, you would have to believe in those things, you hopeless skeptical creature!