Friday, March 4, 2011

It's called unrequited love...

The shittiest feeling in the world is most likely that of unrequited love. Kate Winslet’s character Iris had it damn straight when she narrated the story of falling in love alone, in Nancy Meyer’s “The Holiday”. While I am neither in love or have been hopelessly so for several years, there is inevitably something utterly frustrating about unbalanced affection. And at some point or another, I am quite sure girls and women of all ages and character experience this; that petrifying, irritating, gnawing feeling of being more fond of a guy than he is of you. It starts off with ridiculous smiles at the thought of him, and heartbeat skips when the phone rings. I truly relate to the character Gigi from the romantic comedy “He’s Just Not That Into You”; there is something dreadfully annoying about the incapability of doing anything about your increasingly disturbing obsession with a guy you like. And usually, that’s all it is: you LIKE him. The opposite sex tend to think that our desperate behaviour is a direct product of falling in love. The irony is that their obsession with our obsession is what ultimately ruins any innocent flirt and turns it into a Shakespearean style drama of the Middle Ages. What girl doth not sigh at the beauty and wonder of love? And so we excuse our ridiculous hopes and fantasies; with fierce reference to that ultimate love of loves. The one that will sweep you off your feet, preferably by a knight in shining armour, and carry you into a rainbow full of fairies and shimmering stars.

Unfortunately, we are no longer in a time of chivalry, wooing or Victorian balls where two small dances could be enough to merit a heart. We are stuck in the modern world, where messengers have been transformed into Facebook messages and event invitations. Sex on the dance floor is merely worth a mention and any kiss was definitely the result of far, far too many Jagerbombs. We are the victims, or rather the inhabitants, of a world almost entirely stripped of good old-fashioned roses and kisses love.

Love is still all you need, of course, but that simple “I like you” has been far too exaggerated in recent years for guys to take such a statement as little less than a marriage proposal. And so we are stuck, with the same giggling old school desire for romance and excitement, where such hopes are responded to with “Just take it easy, baby”, “We’re just going with the flow” or my personal favourite “Chill out, it ain’t nothing to worry about”. So we desperately try to be laid-back and pretend not to care, while our heart skips those beats they did back in the Middle Ages, and have been doing through every period in history. And I can’t help but wonder how this modern love, as Bloc Party so eloquently put it on their Silent Alarm album, won’t break us. Three day rules, Facebook rules; rules here and rules there. Why are guys desperate for freedom and girls for commitment? What happened to the laid-back, non-horrifying and completely natural view on the wondrous simplicity of affection?

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