on love

I am an unabashed consumer of "love." As I read magazines and watch chick flicks, I am buying and consuming what they are selling: "love." I've started to realize, though, that this "love" is not Love at all. I don't even know what it is, but, upon examination, this cheap imitation does not even resemble true Love. This manufactured "love," as seen on the movie screen and in the magazine article, is often selfish, superficial, and temporary. If I consume "love" in large enough quantities, I can trick myself into believing that this is the best we can hope for from el amor. But as I've spent more time in the presence of Love Himself, I find myself wanting to jump up from my padded movie theatre seat, dump my Mike 'n Ikes on the floor, point my finger like a saber at the screen and yell

"THAT

IS

NOT

LOVE!"

Now that I know more than ever what true Love is like, this "love" disgusts me even more. I'm not condemning all chick flicks and magazines -- indeed, some of them do paint beautiful picture of kind, self-sacrificial, eternal Love. But for the most part, these images that our culture is selling us -- "love," "romance," and "happiness" -- are like Sprite Zero.

The restaurant I work at started selling Sprite Zero recently, and I had the opportunity to try it for the first time.

Gross.

Absolutely disgusting.

My first thought was "Why would ANYONE ever want to drink this?".

I'm a bit addicted to real Sprite, so the contrast between the imitation sugar and the real sweetness was harsh to me. I realized, though, as I downed Hi-C fruit punch from the next spout over to cover the lingering aftertaste, that this disgusting imitation of my beloved soft drink is a lot like "love."

In fact, I think I watched a movie on a plane a few years ago (now I'm sorry if you liked this movie - I really didn't) that was actually called "A Lot Like Love." I wouldn't be so generous, but I think that this title comes the closest to an accurate representation of the contents of that movie than other titles I've seen.

As I was a little bit bored that particular day at work, I pursued my train of thought even further. If I'd never tried Sprite (well, actually, if I'd never tried sugar at all), then (maybe) Sprite Zero would actually taste okay. Or if it'd been a long time since I'd tried decent soda, I might even like the imitation flavor of Zero.

In the same way, the more time I spend away from Love, the more appealing "love" seems. This is probably a flawed metaphor, as Sprite is actually really bad for you whereas Love is the best thing there is, but it'll have to do.

I have to spend as much time as possible in the presence of Love. And I have to stop consuming "love" - I know I hate it, so why should I force myself to get used to it? I'd rather drink Sprite any day.

Now I'd love to point out some particularly sickening examples of "love" in movies and magazines, but in doing so I'd be committing one of my biggest pet peeves. It's so easy to point fingers and bash the "shallow," "materialistic" content of specific movies or books, but it doesn't really help anyone. I generally don't respect any author that spends an entire book pointing out the evils of "today's society" or "culture" without proposing a solution or even an alternative.

So I'm not going to do that.

This is more of a reminder to myself than anything else: don't listen to anyone and anything that tries to tell you that "love" is Love. If you believe them, you'll waste time and miss out.

And keep drinking Sprite.

"Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
Oh no! It is an ever fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to ev'ry wand'ring bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved."

-Shakespeare