Let's get to it. Romantic love is the superficial comfort created by convincing yourself you have succeeded in eradicating the fear of rejection. Too many big words? Let's break it down.
What encourages us to get into relationships? Isn't it that moment when some cute thing stumbles in a presentation, pauses in embarrassment, and you see through to the weakness that you so easily relate to? Then it takes another two-and-a-half years to gain the courage to say "hello" and follow with some witty comment that shows your uniqueness.
I'm obviously not speaking of myself. I'm one of the few that realize sex is not connected to emotion and is simply a by-product of attraction. Yes, I'm one of the few who get laid regularly. But this bit is regarding the medicated masses.
Relationships were never meant to last a lifetime. They were simply meant to last long enough to overcome the dependency issue that got you involved in the first place. The fact is, all of us, no matter where we come from or the road we've walked, have some kind of mommy issue to contend with. Some stayed on the tit too long. Others not long enough. Some were "Daddy's special girl," or boy; the degrees of fucked-upedness that come from childhood are astounding. For some reason we feel the need to shower some unsuspecting soul with all our dramatic vomit and expect them to care. We seal that mutual neediness and codependency with a diamond ring and an overpriced celebration of the death of our souls. And I find it ironic that this soul homicide is sanctified by an agent of god.
Really, our desire for long-term relationships is simply an acknowledgment of our fear of awkward situations. Why meet new people on a regular basis when you can just find someone you can tolerate for more than ten minutes and inundate them with your bullshit? Funny how you can have so many good times with an individual until you overcome your own shortcomings and discover you hated the asshole from the get.
By now you've probably come to the conclusion that I'm the long-time sufferer of a broken heart. I wish I could say that's true but the fact is my heart has been black and cold for far too long to be impacted by some woman's strike to my ego. It's simply that I'm tired of trying to enjoy the company of someone and that company coming in a bundled package of expectation, jealousy and guilt.
Romantic love is for the weak. It's for those who so dread independence and autonomy that they must latch onto whatever caring prospect errs by showing them attention. The problem is I have to weed through these black sheep of the human condition to find something worth my time. The short and the long is, it's easier to just pay for the goods.