Now I seriously feel like Cary Bradshaw as I write this, “it’s so Sex n the City” of me. Lately I’ve been contemplating this ever so seriously commonly asked question, “what is love?” Is love that infatuation type feeling that gives you butterflies in your stomach right before you see that specific, special person? Could it be that chemical reaction one feels, when you’re with that someone that gives you that, as one of my friends once deemed it ,that act right feeling in all the right places? Or is it that comfort, stable feeling that keeps you on the straight and narrow, the one that makes you feel wanted and adored?

I guess the whole reason I’ve come to this quandary  that, I’m not sure if I’ve ever been in “real love”? And how would I know if I have if I’m not sure what that is exactly. I know that I’ve loved (like I love you as a person type love), admired, respected,  obsessed, and lusted after men, but have I ever truly been in that mutual state of bliss, where nothing in the world could matter as long as you’re with your so to speak soul-mate. Is that LOVE???

I believe as a woman, that we are conditioned at such a young age to believe in romance, fairytales, and happy endings (not the dirty kind)  We are given barbies, and disney movies, and fake babies to look after. Princess kits, and kitchens, fake make-up to grow us up faster then we should be growing. Those may only be toys, but little minds are developing at such a fast rate at that age that I THINK it matters what we give our little girls. Mainly because from that point on it sends us looking for this non-existent form of what we perceive love to be.

Can you call infatuation love?  I’ve seen it happen to all sorts of people. They fall in love so quickly. the first few months are euphoric. Everything about that other person is intriguing. Just the sight, smell, thought of them turns them on and ignites a flame and starts a brush fire. Then a few months go by perhaps even years for some and it’s done. You let yourself get comfortable and that crazy brush fire, eventually dwindles into an ember and burns out. Or for those forever single girls, he stopped calling because he got tired of f’n you and moved on. And you’re left with the “what if’s”? And “maybe I shouldn’t have’s”, and the ever so popular “he’ll call one day’s”, running through your mind. Till you break down from obsessing, (and most likely it also has to do with those unfriendly, unforgiving estrogen spikes), and your bff finds you curled up, in the fetal position, being cradle by nothing but your couch and being spooned by your cat/dog.

i guess the truth is, I don’t know. I don’t think anyone knows. I do know it’s great when you have it, lonely when you don’t , and hurts like hell when it’s gone. So I’m just going to keep mapping my own course and hopefully I’ll bump into it one day and be coherent enough to realize/recognize it.

BY MISS ROQ