While sitting outside the Starbucks this morning, enjoying a warm tall caramel macchiato, I watched a scene unfold at the next table where this guy was in the process of breaking up with his girlfriend, and you could see the pain on his face; hers too. He kept telling her that though he cared about her deeply, even believed he loved her, it just wasn’t with that mad crazy love, the kind that makes the ground beneath his feet move, and he didn’t think she or he deserved anything less. I could see the look on her face, she totally didn’t understand what he was trying to tell her, and I have to honestly say, neither did I.
As a complete stranger, I can’t tell you how this guy really felt about this girl. Being a writer, a people watcher, having grown up with five brothers, been married for twenty years to a man, and have raised a son, I’m pretty good at reading the male body language. This guy’s expressions screamed that he cared deeply about this girl; he constantly reached out to try and comfort her, he looked her directly her when talking, he would gently remove the hair blowing around her face, and he held her hands. The look in his eyes as he stared down at her was filled with compassion and concern, and even held a small pool of tears. When he blushed, the pink hue covered the whole side of his cheeks. Where his face wasn’t pink, it was pale, sick with grief.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest as if trying to shield out the pain that clearly showed on her face.
He rubs his hands over the outside of her hands. “What we have is comfortable, easy, and without complication. We’re best friends, and the sex is great, but…” He stops and runs his hands through his hair. “… you don’t drive me crazy, you don’t cause me to get angry, you don’t make me feel obsessive or absurd. It’s not that mad kind of love they show you in the movies.”
Shaking her head, she answered, “That’s the movies, and it’s not real life. I mean, you do love me, right?”
“Yes, Baby, I do love you, more than I’ve ever loved anyone.”
“Then, I don’t see the problem.”
He blew out a long breath. “I’m afraid I’ll be missing out on this great, mad, crazy love. I don’t want to miss that, and I don’t want you to miss that, and if we get married, I’m afraid it’s because we’re settling for something less than we can have.”
This girl sat there stunned, hurt and in disbelief at what this guy was telling her, and I have to say, I had a huge urge to stand up and scream at him for being a complete ass. He’s going to lose someone who he obviously cares about, who he gets along with great, who obviously cares about him, and who he has a great friendship and sex life …for a fantasy, and ideal, an image he created in his mind.
I almost wept at the dissolution of this relationship, dredging up feelings and fears for and from my own failed love story… both past and possible future. I know what it’s like to have settled, to have chosen stability over romance, to have never pursued that mad love. However, I’ve learned a few things through all this pain. What makes someone special in my life and what love means to me.
I want passion, but perhaps it’s because I’m older, but I don’t want a mad love. I want a deep connection, a sharing of interests and dreams, and a sense of trust and adventure. I want comfortable, easy and low complications, trust, friendship and great sex. I hope that guy finds his crazy love, but I hope even more he realizes he’s already got something madly, deeply and truly amazing, yet that doesn’t seem to be enough for him.
Till next time,