We

Human beings are the most amazing, fascinating creatures that consume oxygen on the planet. When a dog is craving a bone, he will search until he finds it. I have yet to see a dog, upon finding said bone, have terror flash across his eyes and turn tail and run. He is not stupid. Delight fills his K9 features as he falls upon his long awaited treasure with a relish and devours until he is content.
There has not been a bird in the history of the world that discovers a fat, juicy worm on a rainy day and stands over his feast and contemplates if this worm will satisfy him or if this worm is truly the worm he was supposed to eat this day. Maybe this worm is one he is meant to eat in three months.
A plant never rejects the sunshine when offered. Indeed, it will grow at any angel so that it can best consume this precious commodity. It will alter its very being and essence to embrace the existence it craves.
We, the human animal, are completely different. We work our asses off to get a promotion or a new job. When we achieve this goal, do we sit back and bask in the glory of our ambition fulfilled? Of course not. We jump up and down in celebration for seven minutes and fifteen seconds and then scheme out the next course of action to achieve further promotion and career glory. We go on vacation to relax and see new corners of our world. When we arrive at those two weeks, we run from place to place to squeeze in as much as possible. We return to our daily lives more exhausted than when we left and feeling as those we never got to truly see anything. We were always too worried about what we will see next to enjoy what we could have been absorbing in the present. I can not even begin to count the number of dining experiences my family and I have taken part in where we are constantly plotting where we will eat for the next meal and what we will order there. Chances are, we were not even sure of what was actually sitting in front of us due the visions of cuisine to come. The person who is dying of loneliness chooses to shut themselves away from others and wallow in their own presence and ache that the phone never rings. If you don’t have people around you, who is there to let you down and force you to truly face your loneliness?
Every homosapien I know is desperately searching for the ‘love of their life.’ We spend our time on internet dating sites, frequenting bars, churches, and places of employment, searching. We read novel after novel containing epics of lovers, watching movies that end with the beautiful prostitute capturing the heart of the handsome billionaire, listen to music that tells of timeless love and enduring passion. We work out to sculpt our bodies and become as alluring as we can. We attend therapy to become the person we should be so that we can be adequately matched with our soul-mate. We vomit all our angst and frustration of the absence of love in our overflowing journals and diaries. Yes, we may eat, drink, work, sleep, party, pray, engage in social activity, employ self-improvement techniques, and live our busy, busy lives—all the while searching. Always searching.
Why are we searching? What do we want? Someone to love. Someone we find attractive, intriguing, stimulating, compatible, good, someone who helps us feel loved and alive in return. Hopefully, someone we can love and that can love us too. We expect it to be magic. Ariel’s tail split into legs so that she could find her true prince. Eric had to kill the sea-witch to redeem Ariel’s love. That is how it should be. Heaven and Earth should move. The stars should assemble themselves to show that the person we have in our arms is the one meant for us. When we kiss that person, all our doubts, fears, insecurities, and past baggage disappear in an explosion of star dust. Anything else is confusing and doesn’t seem right. There are not supposed to be doubts, hurts, questions, or things to overcome. The person is supposed to be the definition of perfection. Period.
So, what happens when we are with someone who loves us? We are content in their arms. We sigh when they kiss us. We look forward to the next occasion we will get to be in their presence. In addition, unfortunately, our baggage not only remains with us, but also un-zips itself and throws our dirty underwear all over the bedspread. The stars do not move, and God does not send us a letter of confirmation. We have to use our own brains and hearts. How fucked up is that? We have expected to fall in love with a different species other than human. Instead, we fall for someone who is fallible, imperfect, and has doubts. Neither do we become the shining emblem of perfection; we remain who we are. That is not what was supposed to happen. When we find love, we don’t devour it. We tear it apart, analyze every aspect, run series of tests, and then build up walls so that the other person can not just walk on in shattering all our oh-so-perfect visions of what love should be.
I believed in a one true love. I knew everything would be made clear and perfect. I knew that when our eyes met across the room, we would just know.
What a complete bunch of horse shit! There is not one perfect person. There are people we are compatible with, whom we can love and trust and devote ourselves to. We choose them. We choose the one. They choose us. That is not supposed to be good enough. Guess what, not only is it good enough, in it’s imperfection it is perfect. However, it requires us to not act like ourselves. We have to open our minds, take risks, be committed, honest, strong, and weak. No part of it is easy. However, the pay off is we get to spend our life with a human that can understand our humanity: both the beauty and the hideousness of it—and love us because of both.