If only one could tell true love from false love, as one can tell mushrooms from toadstools. –Katherine Mansfield

 

A few years ago, while watching one of my favorite television programs, I heard a comment that just wouldn’t leave my brain. “The reason you haven’t felt it is because it doesn’t exist,” the green eyed Don Draper murmurs. “What you call love was invented by guys like me… to sell Nylons.”

Not to sound cynical, but those words really got me to thinking because I know so many people who have really tried. I know individuals who have loved until they have nothing left to give and for whatever reason, it doesn’t work out. No matter how many fancy dinners take place, how much you treat their child like your own, or how many romantic getaways you willingly go in debt for, it doesn’t work. Despite how much you have in common, how pretty your harmonies sound to Eric Clapton’s Layla, or how fiercely you’ve adopted their culture, it falls through. And I can’t help but wonder: Can we deduce by these common occurrences that true love doesn’t exist? That there is no such thing as the proverbial “one”?

When I was considerably younger, I was involved with a man who undoubtedly believed in what he called “true love”. He believed in it above all things. I remember when I would ask him what his plans were for the future, he would say, “… finding my true love.” And although he spoke so genuinely and whimsically, I remember being relatively offended because that proverbial “true love” he spoke about very obviously wasn’t me. There we were, reminiscing in his Nissan over midnight Wendy’s and he hadn’t found his true love in me? What was that about? Had I misread something…?

But what this boy taught me wasn’t that true love was real. He wasn’t claiming that The One most certainly existed and was a person you would inevitably come into contact with. He was saying that he wanted it, that he believed in it, and that he’d never give up on it.

Rather regrettably, however, this man is currently divorced. But I have faith in him. One day, he’ll find that true love he’s looking for. At least I hope so.

True love is like ghosts, which everyone talks about and few have seen. –Francois de la Rochefoucauld

I’ve heard people say that love doesn’t come from your heart. It comes from your brain. But people are always claiming that they make bad decisions because their brain said “no” and their heart, ever the stubborn one, said “yes”. [Think: LeAnn Rimes vis-a-vis Eddie Cibrian…] So which is it? Is it just an excusable reason to blatantly screw up? Or are people legitimately following their heart because love doesn’t discriminate? Is everyone victimized by this epidemic we’ve named love? Or is it just a way to sell Nylons? Just a way to bring in romantic movie goers to see the latest Nicholas Sparks monstrosity? (Ps, movies like The Notebook, PS, I Love You, and 50 First Dates make me want to off myself in the most physically painful way possible…)

Friends, I would love to believe in love. It’s my nature. I’m passionate, romantic, and pretend I’m starring in a music video whenever there’s good music on in my car. (Which is obviously ALWAYS.) But we live in a world where people get boob jobs to enhance their appearance, go to speed dating seminars to network, dumb twit reality stars are televising every aspect of their lives (including their weddings), and people have been married multiple times before they’re thirty-five. If love does exist, we either haven’t found it yet (three husbands later…) or were too dumb to realize that it’s been staring us in the face this whole goddamn time.

Another thing to consider is The One. I have a few ailments with this because I don’t think it’s fair to be given only one soul mate. I mean, it’s like you get only one chance to do this thing right and what happens if you don’t? What happens if it doesn’t work out? You’re doomed to spend the rest of your stupid life eternally friend zoned? How do you only get one shot at this when really, all life is, is one big learning experience? It just doesn’t seem fair. Or feasible.

I know that some relationships are doomed to fail, that some things are not worth trying for, and that sometimes, people are just generally terrible at relationships. But you can’t get to the top floor without climbing up the stairs. I really believe that these bad relationships mold you into the person you need to be to find that one, theoretically perfect person. Sort of like, in other words, you need to wade through that thunderstorm and wait it out to get to the rainbows. You can’t just kiss the ground in the winter time and expect a flower to grow. Maybe there’s an allotted amount of lesser “ones” that get you to “the one”.

True love stories never have happy endings. –Richard Bach

I have this girlfriend who appears perfect on paper.

She comes from a good family, she’s blessed with good skin, her car is paid off. But there is something behind her deep, dark eyes that she doesn’t share with everyone. Like all of us, she has her share of murky, uncomfortable secrets, her own ghosts keeping her up at night, her own brand of sob story.

I always wanted someone for her. Wished for it, even. I wanted her to feel true love and understand it. To find that one perfect person who would set her soul on fire. To find pleasure in something besides cartoons, fast cars and cabernet. (I know. Why bother when you’ve already hit the trifecta, right?)

So I did what any good best friend would do. I tried setting her up with people (… which obviously never works. Let’s be real.), listened to her funny stories when she met men of interest, and was uber excited when about a year later, she told me (very excitedly) that she thought she’d met someone. And not just someone, but quite possibly The One. If there even is such a thing…

But then suddenly, things started changing. This man who was allegedly so goddamn perfect for her soon became the person on the other end of the argument. He was angry at her, suggesting she change things that he once claimed he loved about her. She found him suddenly insensitive, insecure and out of nowhere, extremely judgmental. He was now someone that she no longer recognized. And the revelation was terrifying.

There were no more thoughts of true love. No more plans for their future. Maybe there was no such thing as The One. Maybe these things just never existed.

Moral of the Crazy: Maybe it’s just that people do the best they can with what they have. Maybe true love and The One don’t exist but they’re things that keep us warm at night. They’re things we can hold onto. Things we can dream about. Things we can wish for.

Because what’s love without tragedy? How do you come to appreciate anything until you’ve had something stolen away from you? How do you know what feels right until you’ve suffered? How do you know what’s real until you’ve felt it?

Sometimes feelings grow cold and people change. Sometimes true love seems like some distant figment of the imagination. But it has to be real. And the reason I know this is because I’ve seen it. I’ve felt it.

But I don’t believe that there is one person for everyone. Love is not a calculated science. Maybe some loves die in order to lead you to better prospects, to find a better fit. Maybe all of love is a struggle until you find happiness. Until you find The One.

True love comes quietly, without banners or flashing lights. If you hear bells, get your ears checked. –Erich Segal