Tag Archives: love
‘I need you’ versus ‘I want you’
When you’re here all the time, I forget who I am on my own. I paint a picture of myself that includes you and it messes around with the truer picture of what I’m actually like.
So this week, while you’re away, I’ve spent the time remembering.
All the beautiful ways your body changes
On Sunday morning when I slipped back into bed, I realised something: your body changes on a daily basis, and so I will never know every inch of it. It is always new.
From the scent of you, to the heat you radiate, to the marks and curves that come and go: I will never know every detail of your body.
All the love except eros
I’m not going to say the word. The V word. The one that’ll have half of you clicking away and the other half vomiting copiously onto the carpet.
But what I am going to do is write about non-sexual love. The love that I usually ignore here in favour of hot sex or wanking or – very occasionally – posts about men who give me that warm feeling in my chest.
Other kinds of love are often neglected – it’s the topic of one of my favourite posts over at BishUK: more than one love. He talks about everything and everyone we love but we never send cards to or buy roses for. Friends, family, community – the people who support and inspire and care for us.
How to get over heartbreak
Start with a super-sad song. One you’ve played over and over before, but never fully wept to. Put it on loudly and sit somewhere you usually don’t. The carpet. The bath. The filthy kitchen floor.
Then, grab something comforting. Chocolate, biscuits, wine, all of the above. Consume them while staring blankly into space, imagining that somewhere someone else is doing the same. Feel the weight and pain of all the shattering hearts that exist on the same planet.
Cry.
Diary extract: Utterly exhausting love
Sometimes I wonder if I’ve learned anything since I was at school, when I used to fall madly in love with any guy who showed a vague interest, before desperately wishing I knew how to act on it.
Then I remember how it was, and that being young was difficult, stressful, and quite, quite absurd.
I haven’t arranged a guest blog for this week – sorry about that. In lieu, please enjoy this extract from my own diary, circa 1998. In it, I am trying to explain the complex emotional dynamic in my group of slightly nerdy, oh-so-romantic friends.