Yesterday I ran across Chuck Klosterman's essay on "fake love." I cringed to see shades of my former self in his description of women who pine for Lloyd Dobler. I used to do that. I had a mental list of ridiculous qualities that Dreamy McLoveyoulots was supposed to have. I was still young and arrogant enough to think that I'd fall madly in love with a vegetarian teetotaler with straight-leg pants and preferably a scooter. I know, it's dumb. I ditched the checklist approach a while ago (good), sadly moved on to placing rigid demands on a relationship (bad). I know, that's dumb, too. I'm not proud of it.
When Phil and I got in the stupid beach fight, I didn't display much maturity or rationality throughout. I barked ultimata and hurled accusations and acted as though I had all the answers. After some calm reflection, I realized, I did not have the answers. And weirdly, suddenly, I realized that what I really wanted was not promises for the future or two weeks in Europe together rather than one or any of that crabby nonsense. I just wanted what I had with him: someone who loved me without judgment and who made me effortlessly happy. When I realized that what I wanted was so simple, I had a jubilant epiphany followed by some serious oh-shit irony.
I don't think he believes me when I say that I no longer care about the things that used to seem so important. But it's like flipping a switch: the stuff that used to get me so worked up and upset is less than insignificant now. I just don't care about those things or even think about them anymore. It's stunning and humbling, this reversal. It's like bellying up to a picnic table full of ice cream, whining that you want pie, and then by the time you realize that you never even wanted pie, that ice cream is what you really wanted, the ice cream has melted in the summer sun.
When Phil and I got in the stupid beach fight, I didn't display much maturity or rationality throughout. I barked ultimata and hurled accusations and acted as though I had all the answers. After some calm reflection, I realized, I did not have the answers. And weirdly, suddenly, I realized that what I really wanted was not promises for the future or two weeks in Europe together rather than one or any of that crabby nonsense. I just wanted what I had with him: someone who loved me without judgment and who made me effortlessly happy. When I realized that what I wanted was so simple, I had a jubilant epiphany followed by some serious oh-shit irony.
I don't think he believes me when I say that I no longer care about the things that used to seem so important. But it's like flipping a switch: the stuff that used to get me so worked up and upset is less than insignificant now. I just don't care about those things or even think about them anymore. It's stunning and humbling, this reversal. It's like bellying up to a picnic table full of ice cream, whining that you want pie, and then by the time you realize that you never even wanted pie, that ice cream is what you really wanted, the ice cream has melted in the summer sun.
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