Love? Well, who cares?

Remember all those definitions of love that we grow up with? Sometimes I feel, movies screwed up my views on love, sex, and more such stuff when I was growing up. Watch any popular Bollywood romance, love is a chase, love is roaming about in Switzerland, and love is sacrificing what you want. And most of all love is melodrama of a medley of never-ending smiles, tears, being lost in dream world the whole day. Sorry, but I have my work to take care of. I don’t have the budget for a Switzerland visit and I live the way I want to:-) So, here is what I found out. Love is:

  1. Not having to expect anything dramatic such as clouds bursting, violins playing, heartbeats missing, whenever we talk to each other. 
  2. A boring acknowledgement that we are the way we are and we are going to be the way we are going to be and there is no thrill anymore in proving it or prove anything contrary to it.
  3. Not having to think about avenging small digs you make at me. Its such a waste of time anyways. I would rather laugh with you on the stupid side to me.
  4. Not having to worry whether you are giving me attention or not and then find ways either to avert it or gain it further. Gawd!
  5. Not having to worry about your needs or having you worry over mine.
  6. Not having to worry whether you are happy in every moment that we spend talking to each other.
  7. Saying good morning to you every morning.
  8. Kicking your ass over anything and everything even when I have to knowingly cook reasons to do so making you feel as if I am the throat-gloating, suffocating demon riding on your back and then finding that you still want to be with me.
  9. Not having to worry whether you are dating someone or not. If you can handle two women, out of which one is like me, then hats off to you;-)
  10. Living my life the way I want but not telling you to do the same. After all, aren’t you living it the way you you want to, already?
  11. Boring acceptance that we will just read newspapers and have tea every Sunday morning. We won’t have romantic sparks flying in air or intellectual, inspired conversations to boost us up every day. But we will still keep it like it is. What is a Sunday without newspapers, tea cups, chicken curry-rice, and lazing around?
  12. Accepting that your and mine boring, lazy presence is the most peace-giving thing that can happen to any of the individuals in the meaningless rat race.
  13.  Accepting that it may not be that boring not to have to prove yourself worthy of female/male companionship over and over again.
  14. Defining what fun is and what fun is not. Even after the thrill of chasing/dating games is over, it maybe fun finding ways to have fun without games. It maybe fun not to have the kind of fun that we thought was the right way. It maybe fun not to have fun for a while.
  15. Suddenly thinking that all the stupid definitions that I wrote above really are boring and stupid but I am still going to do this till definition number 20. Ok, we will make it 22. I kind of like numbers that have two same numbers in them!
  16. Eating honey-raisin cookies and thinking why I had to choose to write this list on love of all things. I have far more things to say about economics, terrorism, and the pleasure of dipping a honey-raisin cookie in tea and letting it melt in my mouth.
  17. There is no number 17. I don’t like this number.
  18. Good mind-keeping! Keep office to office, home to home, me to you, and you to myself.
  19. Boring you to death with my stories on a new kind of refrigerator that i saw in a store, which you insist is a 4-5 year old technology. But still doing the same thing over and over again just to find a conversation over the phone and to convince you that its new and you only dreamt about it 4-5 yrs back.
  20. Living with helplessness of not being able to tell you the insights I have about you for the fear that I may put a barrier to you finding them on your own.
  21. Not having to control or hide my disappointments and prejudices. What’s life without cynicism?
  22. Ok, so this is the last number. But I am not going to write it. Why? Because I am already bored enough to define a definition-less, boundary-less, oxygen that we breathe day in and day out. Am I useless or what? I got better things to do with my Sunday! 
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