This comment was by Vironika Tugaleva on the post On Love, Being in Love, and Waiting for a Train
I love this article. So honest and beautiful. I love how you said that it’s scary to admit that you need it too. I remember the first time I admitted openly that I wanted gentleness… Love… Tenderness… Passionate desire… Burning absence…
I grew up tough. I grew up on porn culture. In the era of sex advice and cynicism and gender warfare. It was really the scariest thing to admit that I wanted more than a quick romp. You know, the kind of romp that so much proposedly pro-fem lit I read told me I should want, need, and learn to do. That to be a woman, I had to be able to screw and love “like a man”, I.e. love ‘em and leave ‘em.
The more I have allowed myself to communicate about my previously shameful desires about love and sex, the more I have found that I was never kissing frogs wrongly… I was just kissing the wrong frogs. The men who love us and leave us are to be avoided, not emulated. We don’t become murderers to even out the negative effects of serial killers, so why become desensitized to love to even out the negative effects of anti-attachment and anti-love discourse?
photo: Highlander 411 / flickr
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