It’s my favorite time of year. At least, it used to be.
I love horror movies, I love a great ghost story and I love to be surprised. But it’s not the same anymore. Not since the last time I was really, truly in love.
This year, along with the last few, Halloween was a bittersweet reminder that love does not actually conquer all, and those lucky enough to be in love right now, might not find themselves such in a matter of years.
As I zipped through the fallen foliage, I realized I had become one of those women.
You know the type.
They casually strut their single status at just the right moments, when their coupled friends are wishing they were unattached (even if just for a moment). They take pride in their independence, and find strength in the fact they can make a decision whenever they want. All the while not so subtly implying all the committed people in the universe have it wrong, and it is they, in fact who are losing out.
When did this happen? When did I lose my connection to the one thing I have ever fully and truly believed in?
When did I lose my faith in love?
When I think about the concept of love, I still romanticize the idea. I still daydream about some special guy, reaching across a table at a crowded restaurant and holding my face in his hands, simply gazing into my eyes and smiling.
That’s it. That’s all I really need(ed). Don’t get me wrong, I’ll never say no to flowers or a surprise dinner or weekend away, but….
When the lights go out I need to know the person on the other side of the bed knows what my face looks like in the dark. I need to know he can imagine the shape of my nose, the feel of my earlobe between his fingers, the lingering scent of a perfume that is uniquely mine.
The last time I felt that way it was nearly a decade ago, and the power of that intimacy haunts me still. The idea that emotions of that intensity and depth are possible, while at one time felt like stupendous bliss, now feels like a infection. A disease.
I can’t escape the nagging feeling that love is actually real, yet at the same time I am overcome by the knowledge that nothing lasts forever.
I am torn between two worlds.
I suppose it’s only appropriate I have an affinity for horror movies. It makes sense. The full range of human emotions are often on display. From childish fears to supernatural phenomenons – the characters, and the viewers experience it all. We endure the psychotic, hypnotic course of life, death, love and hate, and completely and fully connect with one another in the process.
And after 118 minutes, the ride is over.
The screen goes blank, we get up from our seats. Whatever sense of another we may have had, vanishes behind scrolling credits and sinister background music.
And when I cautiously crawl into bed, I know whoever I was hoping would recognize me in the shadows is just a myth.
Just another scary story, whispered around an autumn campfire, frightening unsuspecting twenty-somethings into the arms of a love that may never last.
What reminds you of love lost, or longed for?
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