Sharks smell blood.
Dogs smell fear.
Humans smell desperation.
I have a lot of love to give, we all do.
We’re always looking for somewhere to put it, whether that’s into work, art, exercise, activism, family, friends, sex, alcohol, drugs, or romance.
When it comes to the romantic receptacle of love, it gets sticky.
When we meet someone we’re attracted to, interested in and intrigued by, we have a natural tendency to take all that love (that’s been stored away in the closet of vulnerability), and throw it into that person who gives us some attention and seems to like us, too.
Although, just because it feels natural to do so, doesn’t mean it’s a good idea. I think, it’s a bad idea—a really really bad idea.
I can officially use the past tense on this one—I was that girl. If a man showed me attention, I was on him like white on rice. I didn’t realize what an utter turn off it was, and how suffocating and unattractive I became.
I just thought I was doing what I was supposed to do: Pour it all on–love, love, love, smother, smother, smother.
However, a living creature who is being smothered or drowned, fights back.
They fight for their life.
They fight to breathe.
They fight to get out of danger’s way.
They run as fast as they can, away.
I didn’t understand why the men I was involved with wanted out so badly. Why my relationships were on again and off again, over and over again. They’d come back hoping it would be different, that I would be different, only to find me standing in the same pool of desperation, clutching the pillow of insecurity.
I didn’t see what I see now, which is: I wasn’t loving them, not at all. It was the opposite of love; it was fear. I was desperate for validation, to know I mattered, but there is nothing more unsexy than that.
So, I decided what I was doing wasn’t working and I’d try a different way—I’d stand back for a change and I’ll be darned, it’s working! I’m a safe place now, instead of a danger zone.
Now, I’m very aware of becoming the receptacle of someone else’s desperation—It’s a terrible feeling, one I want to sprint from, every time.
Building a relationship is like making a roux–It’s equal parts butter and flour.
You have to wait until the butter has melted before you begin slowly, slowly adding the flour, whisking it together, to smoothness. If you don’t let the butter melt all the way, or you pour in the flour too fast, it’s ruined.
Love is the same way.
It takes two people equally warmed and ready for one another–a careful and intentional confluence of hearts, minds and histories, blending together.
Whenever I feel desperation beginning to stir, I remember what Abraham Lincoln said: “Nothing of value can be lost by taking time.”
Love doesn’t have a time limit—It’s not going anywhere, and neither are the people who genuinely love you, too. So, drop the pillow, get out of the pool, dry off, and when you do, love will meet you there, in time. ~Rebecca