by Kristin Gallagher, Columnist
I have a secret.
I am not exactly proud of it, but I have been deceiving everyone.
For the past 8 months, I have not actually been 24, single and childless.
I have been in a committed relationship, actually.
But don’t worry. I am, in fact, back to my roots. Single as a dollar bill. And feeling about as used as one.
You know, the type of dollar bill that you cringe at a little when the cashier places it in your hand with your change because you can just tell it has been in umpteen strippers panties and probably some old, fat guys sweaty gym shorts.
That’s me. Just call me Dollar Bill Daria.
I don’t have any real excuse for carrying on this charade of solitude, except for the fact that I got caught up with utter happiness and forgot that everything else existed. You know that super warm, gooey feeling that you get when someone brushes your hair out of your eyes early in the morning. Or the tummy tickle thing that happens when their breath falls on your neck. It’s pretty magical, I guess. (If I had to put a scenario-type-definition to magic it would definitely be the emotion of love and not some old man pulling a rodent from a top hat or sawing a hooker in half).
Either way, I stumbled into such happiness, unexpectedly. We walked into it without even trying, him and I. I think we just woke up one day lying next to each other and realized we had been carrying on this way for weeks now, and so it just was. I would have divulged all the details of my fairytale romance, but you see, I was over the moon for the guy. Any moment spent at my computer would have taken away from the time I only wanted to give to him. I have been, for all intents and purposes, a Smitten Kitten.
We laughed. We stayed up late. We met each other’s families. We spent too much time lounging probably, and even more time touching. There was never a moment his hands were not on me- in public, on the couch, in the car. His touch was enough to make my whole body feel electric, and at the same time my entire soul felt loved. We rarely argued, we never went to bed angry, and we supported one another in all of our oh-so-different interests. I thought I had won the lottery, only even better, I had won it with someone who thought my happiness was more important than his.
But I didn’t win. It was like one of those tickets that you give as a prank that has all the right numbers, but is really just a mirage. It clearly states at the bottom it is a gag, but you miss that in the excitement that is overwhelming your senses all at once. You see what you desire, not what is realistic. Just like the euphoria of winning the fake lottery, our relationship came to an end all at once.
You see, he was set to move away to Chicago. The windy city. Chi Town. The city that has stolen my love.
He was moving even before we first met- a plan he had in place for a long time. He knew that first day he shook my hand and carried my luggage into the lake home of our friends where we were to spend the weekend- he was going to be gone come this time next year. But all it took was 12 hours- 720 minutes of sun, water and skin- and I had won the award for the most beautiful green eyes he had ever seen. And him- he had the most electric baby blues. They were almost piercing how blue they were, and they looked at me right into my soul. The rest of the night was a blur, but we were inseparable. We spent every minute near one another, and we talked late into the night. As he tucked me in that night, he asked me for a first date, and I never looked back.
Days turned into weeks turned into months, and we spent as much time together as we could. He waited , probably even more than a month, to even kiss me. And when he did, I knew that this was something very incredible. It didn’t just excite my loins, but my mind. Now, those of you who have never felt this probably have no idea what that means. But those lucky ones who have know exactly the feeling- your mind immediately runs wild with this notion of excitement. It’s almost like you can see the future flash before you’re eyes, but all at once. Its continuous and blurry and ambiguous, but its one of the most invigorating feelings you can get with someone.
And still, he was leaving. WE knew this now. But we avoided it. We just held one another all night and woke up every morning and kissed like this wasn’t going to end. The truth was, he and I had an expiration date.
And the date came. It didn’t creep up, we kept close tabs on it. We just….stayed. We didn’t dare speak on it, as we knew it would rear its ugly head at the sound of its name. Eventually, though, it lunged forward and consumed us.
He woke up an hour before I did. He cleaned up, put on his uniform, and crept into my room to kiss me right in the middle of my forehead. He held my hand and told me to go back to sleep, he would see me soon.
But he didn’t. And before I knew it, his things were gone, leaving my home emptier than it had ever been. I wasn’t abandoned; he wouldn’t do that. But it must have been easier to leave things the way he did that morning than look me into my green eyes and tell me he had to make his move alone.
The date had spoken. And it was time for him to go, just according to plan. And I wasn’t penciled in.
So now its now, and here I am. Screaming the same mantra I created for myself when I created this blog; perhaps its my destiny.
For the record, I am crying as I type this. Part of it is because I am still feeling the loss of someone I have fallen in love with. But the bulk of it is just a flood of indescribable emotion. You see, I have loved before. We all have love and lose love and find love again. Its like the natural order or something. And every love we fall into is going to be different. The last guy I love was nothing like this one. It was young and uneven and consuming in all the wrong ways. It was a love that I put everything in to just to validate myself. I did love him, but in hindsight, I spent most of my energy trying to convince him to love me the same so I could feel whole. But this love was different. It consumed me, but in a way that left me totally breathless after every time our bodies intertwined. It was a love that drew me to him when I was wary because I knew he would let me rest. It is a love that eats at me- because even more than I want him right here next to me every day for the rest of my life, I want his happiness. Unfortunately for me, that doesn’t involve me, or this city, or even this state. Go figure.
I read somewhere about a lady who said that she didn’t marry the love of her life and she was glad. She said that the love of her life was too much- it was too passionate and too persuading. When it was good it was great- and when it was bad is was dreadful. And she said a love like that can never develop normalcy, and it could never allow her to be herself.
But that’s bullshit. I believe all love should be consuming. It should be overwhelming and exciting and equally terrifying. It should move you in all the right ways and expand your notion of what it means to be totally human and crave the tenderness of another person. That person wasn’t the love of her life. It was ONE love in her life. The love of your life, THE love, will keep you. Will nurture you. Will give back to you even more than you feel like you could ever put in to it.
The love of my life may be moving to Chicago. Or one love of my life may be moving to Chicago. Right now, as I sit in my big panties eating 75% off chocolate from our most recent Satan’s Holiday, I am not the best judge.
Its is hard to believe, though, that someone who would kiss you on the mouth in the morning before you have even thought about a toothbrush without hesitating isn’t your soulmate.
But no matter what, we will never stop chasing that emotion. In the moment we feel it, it is perfect, and we will risk anything to keep it. Love is, in fact, the most dangerous emotion we will ever have. It is the only emotion that keeps us consistently gambling- it is almost like we are committing a sin every time we give in to it. We are gluttons for that thrill, and we will ride the high as far as it will take us.
But I will always place the bet. I will always put in knowing the odds are only 50/50, and my heart is assuming an unadvisable risk. Because while love is the most dangerous emotion we will ever have, it is also the most joyous feeling our hearts will ever know.
I can only truly hope that my 50 I have put in will reward me- in time. Whether it is now or 6 months from now, I cannot help but think this time around wasn’t so easy for no reason. I may never see him again. But if our souls were truly as happy together as it felt like they were, they will refuse to stay apart- regardless of what we think we want.
Editor’s Note: This post originally appeared on Gallagher’s blog, dariadiaries.com