I grew up listening to a burned CD of Eagle Eye Cherry on repeat on the living room stereo. “I’m falling in love again, ain’t nothing I can do” seemed so strange to me as a child. Surely you had some modicum of control over who you chose to fall in love with? If only life were that straightforward.
My first love is one that I remember well. We were awful for each other. While opposites may attract, we were far too similar. A relationship only has room for so many neuroses and insecurities. Needless to say, it ended poorly and our friendship was collateral damage.
There were a few boyfriends, flings and one-night stands before I fell again. This love was different, it was white picket fence, til-death-do-us-part love. I promised to love him, even when I didn’t like him very much. But I learned that love alone cannot sustain a marriage. I’m sure he will make someone a wonderful life partner one day, however, I am not that someone.
Now I am 27, divorced, and falling in love again. I’ve told him that I love him twice: once when he was drunk and once when I was coming out from anaesthesia after surgery. He doesn’t remember the first time and I don’t remember the second. Luckily, I think he’s cute when he’s drunk and he thinks I’m cute when I’m high on whatever they gave me to knock me out.
There are no labels here but there is affection, attraction, cuddling and support. I don’t know if it will last another six months or sixty-plus years but I plan on enjoying it while it lasts. Cause “I’m falling in love again, and this time it’s with you”.