Dreams are for Kids

At the start we think we have found a gem, a perfect specimen to take part in our dream romance - she's this and that, never does this nor that. And then we fall in love, thinking that this newfound gem is way better than our last. We dive into a new relationship that makes our world so colorful in the first few months or so, makes our eyes glow and our cheeks flushed, and makes us once again think about the possibility of forever. And then we get used to the things that she does, we get tired of tolerating her little faults, we even come to the point of being irritated to the childish little ways that got us so attracted during the getting-to-know stage. We start wanting more, wanting her to do this and that, we start wanting her to be more of what we first thought was her. And then our worlds crumble.

And then we will promise ourselves not to fall in love again. We listen to Ne-Yo's So Sick, start calling our drinking buddies, start going out more often to the thought of (whether we admit it or not, and whether how much we convince ourselves not to fall in love again) meeting another person that will fit into our idea of a perfect mate.

And then we meet yet another prospect, and we start all over again. A cycle, reminds me of the evaporation/precipitation thingie in science class.

I like it, though, when none-romantic-writers write about relationships. They take it matter-of-factly. Let me quote Stephen King from the book (Dreamcatcher) that I am currently reading:

"You grew up, became a man, had to adjust to taking less than you hoped for; you discovered the dream-machine had a big OUT OF ORDER sign on it.

...that and maybe a big old sloppy-lipstick blowjob from this drunk chick out in his car. Wanting more is just a recipe for heartache.

Dreams are for kids."

Labels: blah, books, love