Sloppy, Painful, Glorious
For some, love is theoretical. All the action takes place in the head. Emotions are based on fantasy which is within their control, and thus cannot disappoint. These people cannot bear to be soiled by love’s sloppiness and unpredictability. They play at love, but never truly engage.
For me love was real and big and sloppy and painful and glorious. I wanted to be in it elbows deep, mucking about the unknown. I wanted to roll around in its stink; smelling everything and everyone who preceded me.
It was never going to be perfect. I knew I’d be lucky if it was merely good. But I relished the mess; the challenge of unwinding a knotted ball of yarn; the stains and scars standing as witnesses. This is living! To jump first and learn to swim as you’re drowning!
In the end, complex, challenging, emotionally-muddled love affairs cause far less heartbreak than those which never get started.