Romance & Cigarettes
I’m a romantic. I tend to agree with the Beatles: “All you need is love.” Deep down, despite evidence to the contrary, I truly believe that in the end love conquers all. I’ve often said that I didn’t understand how people could have faith in something like the idea of God. Faith, among other things, is something that fascinates and intrigues me. But the truth is that we all have faith in our lives. Whether it’s a believe in justice, truth, love or beauty, there’s something out there that is intangible, but that we nonetheless believe in.
Maybe you believe in goodness, who knows what your version of faith is, but me, I believe in love. This coming from a kid who swore she would never get married or have kids. There was no way in hell, after seeing my parents version of love, that I would ever let anyone close enough to let that happen to me, but somehow I came across the other side still believing.
Sometimes, though, sometimes, like today, my faith is a little shaky. There are some things that just don’t seem to be as sacred as I once thought. When you’re in a relationship you think that everything about it is unique to you and your partner, but the reality is that most people repeat the same kind of relationship over and over again. The same gestures, touches, and words are used again and again long after you’ve left the picture and vice-versa.
Oh, I’ve been in love. Hard. And when that was over and I dated some other people, the exact same little moments that made me weak in the knees came around again. I mean, the same things that my ex liked about me were repeated to me using the exact same words in some instances. The way we would touch each other, or the way we would look at each other. The same.
Humans are creatures of habit to be certain, and all the little things that you love about a person don’t change from one relationship to another. I started thinking about these things while eating breakfast this morning, because I had just read a rather telling passage in the book I’m currently reading. Basically, the protagonist walks into a room that his ex lover had recently occupied and as he’s looking around he notices a purple scarf thrown over a lampshade and he remembers how she had done that with him when they first made love. He sees a garter belt on the floor, the straps of which he had played with, and a shirt he had unbuttoned. The smell in the room being the same and no sign of him ever having been a part of her life anywhere to be seen. He realizes that all these little things which he had believed to be only for him were also shared with her new lover. In the end, he wasn’t special at all, since all these experiences were repeated.
That shook me a little, because it rings true. If something can be repeated it kind of takes the shine away from the original experience. I don’t know. What do you think?