Love, Ah Love...

Sometimes I wonder why people subject themselves to so much torture. In this case, I mean being in love. Sure, it feels like the best thing in the world; you feel complete, there's someone you can depend on, and hey, humans weren't built to be solitary creatures. But when you look at the destruction and hurt it can cause, the sheer amount of effort you need to put in, you wonder why more people don't just lose all optimism and give up on monogamy forever.

The best (and worse) kind of relationships are the ones where you put in effort to maintain. Where you are constantly thinking of your lover, putting in effort to meet up, hang out, communicate, surprise, delight and basically show that you care. Make sacrifices, make time, make sure the other person is aware of you.

But it is just so exhuasting. And then you start to wonder if it is worth all the strain. Juggling school and Fadz can sometimes be a fine art. Because of his ridiculous schedule, he will only know whether he can come out on weekdays at the last minute. So what happens? I have to make the decision whether to stay at home and do work (or spend me time) or rush out and meet him. I have on occasion felt extremely resentful, and have oft wondered if he realizes the effort that I put in to see him. I push aside my work commitments, stand up friends to meet him, stay up into the wee hours (after he has gone back to camp) to rush reports and assignments, all just so that we can spend more time together.

And at the back of my head, I'm constantly questioning myself, why bother? I'm young, relatively datable, why don't I choose the easy way out and just casual date? That way, there's no commitment, no resentment, no feelings to be hurt. And don't even get me started on the other excess baggage that commited dating drags along. Hello jealousy, pettiness, stupid quarrels and misunderstandings. Restrictions, self-control and monotony. Doesn't sound like a pretty package at all.

So why do we still do it? Why do we constantly dream of The One, of spending the rest of your life with that ONE person, of loving that ONE lover into your old age. No matter how big a flirt you are, no matter how much you may proclaim to be a swinging bachelor(ette), at the end of the day, you still wish you belonged in a relationship with that special someone. Someone who makes your heart go flip-flop, who makes you smile with thoughts of that person, who holds you like he never means to let go. Someone you know who will be around.

So why dream of that White Knight?

The answer lies in possession. The knowledge of looking at the love of your life and going, He's MINE. He's mine to hold as tight as I want, and only I can kiss and caress him (well, at least in most cases); that his gestures are made for me, his choices have me in mind. That it's my RIGHT to think of him constantly, my RIGHT to do stupid things that would make other people cringe, and above all, my RIGHT to occupy that portion of his heart and mind.

Possession. When you start losing that need to possess and be possessed, that's when you know it's over. But the magical thing is, you never stop hoping that someone would come along to fill that need. Lovers may die, but love never does. That why we keep trying. That's why we endure the madness and the crying, the pain and the jealousy. In the hopes of finding that feeling and keeping it. To feel glorified and justified. To be wrapped in that special bubble where so many damn things just can't penetrate.

Love, drive us to madness. Please.