Love - part deux

As an almost twenty-year old it is impossible for me not to have any decided views on love.

I’ve gone through all the usual stages. You know, like when you’re ten you think the kissing scenes in movies are gross. At age thirteen, you’re guiltily interested in the kissing scenes and your older sister’s weepy romance novels don’t make you want to gag but you will die before you admit it. By fifteen, you probably have at least one unrequited love story involving Leonardo DiCaprio.
The rest, as they say, is history.

If you’re a guy, you have your own set of embarrassing stages involving Julia Roberts. You know what they are.

As you grow older, you also realize that this is more complicated than you bargained for. You’re exposed to different theories ranging from the plenty-of-fish-in-the-ocean theory to the one-true-love theory. You’ll also meet a lot of people who are convinced that it’s all a hoax generated by a capitalist economy to sell Valentine’s Day memorabilia and romantic comedies.

Also, it’s really a big bother.
And lame, sometimes.
Funny how no one minds all that.
Unless they’re old, cynical and bitter.
Or they’re your parents.