My head rests perfectly tucked under his chin; the soft end of his beard brushing my forehead like a kiss. I fit there perfectly, resting right on his collar bone, my arm wrapped around him, our legs intertwined. I could lay there forever, fall asleep gently to the sound of rain pattering on the window at the head of the bed.
“Hey,” he nudges me with his chin. “Go brush your teeth.”
. . .
I’ve heard people say that real love is boring. It’s not boring, it’s comfort. Those who find comfort boring may then say that real love is then also boring, but those who find comfort boring are rarely pleased.
Note: I’m also not here to say that real love contains no passion, because it does, but passion cannot and should not be your driving force. (Passion isn’t the reason the Boyfriend tells me to brush my teeth).
I mean yes, it can be exciting to watch — movies about slow, long term relationships don’t exist, because watching the insane and terrible parts of a Chuck and Blair-eqsue relationship isn’t as interesting (Lily and Marshall are the exception in television, not the rule).
Passion isn’t forever
Well, nothing is forever. But you get it.
Studies say passion begins to wane between 18–24 months into a relationship (I want to know whose job it was to collect that data: “Excuse me, do you believe your relationship is as intense and passionate as it was last year? Asking for science.”)
But yeah, it cools off. Things aren’t as exciting anymore, you know what they look like naked, and you’ve probably been in the vicinity when they use the bathroom so a bit of the mystery has been scooped off the top.
But man, it still exists
There are moments when I catch a glimpse of the man I’ve been with for a literal quarter of my life and feel that immense surge of attraction and love, those butterflies in my stomach.
There are mornings where we awaken entangled in other, can’t get enough of one another. There are nights we kiss each other up the stairs to the loft.
Those don’t go away. They’re just not in the forefront of your mind. And that’s okay.
Humans are fairly useless in the beginning of relationships — we only spend time with one person, we only talk about one person, we obsess over dumb things like whether or not they texted us back as fast as we texted them back, or whether or not they followed us on social media. Yo, none of that stuff is fun. It’s way better when you’re not doing that. Trust me.
Erratic love is dangerous
Erratic is to love like porn is to sex: unrealistic, and hard to achieve. Those who have only known those extremes will always be unsatisfied with the real thing.
Those who think erratic, impassioned, frenzied love is the only way to love will never achieve what they want in the long term. Erratic love is dangerous because it fades away, and is often built up without the steady foundation beneath it. When it fades, there’s no love left to catch it.
Yes, the months leading up to that first ‘I love you’ is a heart pounding, breath catching cacophony of excitement. But the following years of living together, the ‘whose turn is it to make dinner’ and ‘can you take out the garbage’ don’t typically create that same feeling in your chest.
Love, in it’s truest, steadiest form, is dull. It’s normal.
. . .
I remember our first kiss like it was yesterday — outside on his driveway, the step he took towards me, that feeling in my chest because I knew it was going to happen. And now I get to kiss him every day.
That first I love you is so special, so exciting, and I say it all the time now, like a broken record: I love you, I love you, I love you.
I heard once that you shouldn’t say it all the time, because then it looses meaning, because then it becomes less special. But that’s so not true, it’s special because I say it, because I mean it, because there’s love there every day.
. . .
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This post was previously published on Hello, Love.
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