Three minutes to make a list of adjectives, dump the box, and start flipping over pieces.
College degree goes here. Stable job goes there. Supportive looks like a corner piece. And blue eyes fits right there in the middle. Image complete with one exception: love. Where is love?!
Where is love?
You tell me.
We’re force-fed from the moment of conception. Pretty girl, wait here. He’ll come for you. He may not remember your face, but he loves you.
He loves you.
Our literature is laced with the sh*t. We’re doped up on it until a sociology professor asks us what we look for in a partner. Then we’re too scared to say it. Too scared we’ll sound childish. We must be practical. We must be adults.
Why does it matter what I look for in a partner?
We don’t get to choose those. She assigned them on the first day. But I can tell you what I look for in a lover. Do I really need to say it again.
Lover, love her. It doesn’t have to be practical. That comes later. If you don’t love me, then what’s the point?
You can believe in facts and figures, jobs and income, power and prestige. Go ahead, make your lists. Say it all matters more than the notion of love.
But as for me, I would still walk this entire world just to see you smile.
Author: Nicole Smith
Editor: Erin Lawson