Control

I want to be madly, passionately in love. This is my greatest weakness in life--the pursuit of the love of my dreams has led me down many paths. Some dark and tangled, some not. The love I want is too idealistic for this world, I think. It belongs in another time, where men and women's roles were simpler and more defined, so each had time to reflect on the qualities of the other that they lacked, and thus adored.

I'm well aware that mad, passionate love does not last--if it is a healthy love, one born of selflessness and true appreciation for the beloved, it grows and matures over time into something more sustainable. But I truly believe one of life's great pleasures is the art of falling in love. The maddening rushes of dopamine, the deep craving to be in the presence of the beloved...it's the greatest drug on Earth. Much of the human experience has happened while people were in the haze of the beginning stages of love. Call it what you will--infatuation, lust, limerence...there's nothing like it.

It's been so long since I felt that way. Unfortunately, the gauntlet of my past relationships was so rough that I believe I lost the key ability required to experience that stage of love: vulnerability. I hate being vulnerable. It feels like a crime--against myself. My self-preservation instincts are now so strong that I crush any inkling of vulnerability the moment it is felt. I wish I wouldn't do this, but it's an instinct now. Instincts are designed for your survival, so it's probably for the best. This is a sad thing, I know. But I've found that vulnerability is incompatible with control, and control is necessary for me to maintain my sense of identity in a relationship. I fear the loss of control more than anything because it equates to the loss of myself.

That's the most unfortunate thing of all--without loss of control, I'll never truly fall in love again. I'm just now starting to understand (and grieve) that.