Thursday 5 December 2013

Love, Confusion and other psychological games...



It’s such a lovely notion that when you see or talk to or think about someone you love your heart races. How romantic, right?! We’ve had this concept shoved down our throats by poets, writers, singers, songwriters and horny bastards looking for a shag at 3AM. It’s nice, really. It sounds so deep and meaningful. But let’s face it kids, it’s all just hormonal. It’s your brain giving you hits of adrenaline, epinephrine and norepinephrine which makes you all crazy and weird and forces your heart to beat real fast. I get that same feeling when I open a bill or hear that Elijah Wood is going to star in a new film, so it is NOT always a positive thing. But even though the science tells me to stop reading into this whole “your heart tells you who you love” phenomenon, I still can’t shake that romantic side of me. You know... the little girl who watches ‘Sleepless in Seattle’ over and over again and thinks that the guy who serves her coffee is actually her soul mate. She’s soo annoying, that bitch. But I’ll give her this; she’s determined. No matter how many times she gets proven wrong or slapped across the face by love, she keeps on truckin. 

The motivation behind this rant is that I keep in contact with a couple of my exes and one of them always has this affect on me when I hear from him. My heart races and my stupid, half-dead, almost-always-drunk brain takes this as some kind of sign that we’re supposed to be together. We’re not, obviously. If we were supposed to be together, we’d be together. If we were truly meant for each other, we wouldn’t hurt and frustrate each other as much as we do. If he was really the love of my life, I wouldn’t sometimes impersonate him in the mirror and then laugh manically. I know it’s not to be, like Britney Spears as an actress... that dog just won’t hunt. But all the logic and reason in the world doesn’t stop me from feeling like I’m about to have a heart attack whenever I see an email or text from him. 

And my mother is no help whatsoever. She takes this heart racing thing way more seriously than she should, screaming at me to do everything in my power to get my ex back. She adores this man; she would marry him in a second if my dad wasn’t around. Seriously, she’d get all ‘Death Becomes Her’ on my ass (minus the eternal life thing) if she were single. She’d get super hot and steal Bruce Willis from me as I slowly age and my showbiz career flops, and she wouldn’t feel a single pang of guilt about it. Obviously I am Meryl Streep in the scenario and she is Goldie Hawn, because if given the option, I will ALWAYS be Meryl Streep. She is amazing and looking at her makes me feel like I am swimming in a pool of strawberry cider with Billie Holiday serenading me from the patio. And let’s be honest, that’s what TRUE love should feel like. Which is not how I felt with the ex. 

Don’t get me wrong, it was pretty close. I loved him a lot, but near the end it was more like swimming in a pool of coopers sparkling with the Mighty Mighty Bosstones singing from the patio. But after a while, you realise that they only had like... one or two really awesome songs and the rest sounded a bit generic. And after a while coopers sparkling gets really heavy and hard to drink, plus it makes you stupid drunk. 

What I’ve discovered is that this whole heart racing thing is nice. It reminds me that there are people out there who are so fantastic and unique and special that it will cause my body and mind to have powerful feelings of love (or something like it) towards them. It reminds me that I will not be apathetic towards relationships and love forever. It gives me hope and optimism and also a wicked case of hyperactivity. But also it reminds me not to take it all so seriously. It’s not the be all and end all; it’s really just your brain being a kind of over-perky cheerleader for love and as we all know, cheerleaders can be right bullies. The best way to deal with a bully is to ignore them. Eventually they’ll get bored and leave you alone. Either way, you’ll survive. TRUST me, you will. If we, as a society, can survive the films of Vin Diesel then we can survive anything.

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