The Kind Of Love I Want…

I’ve been asking myself repeatedly: What do you want? And as I collect failed attempts not to think with my heart, I decided to assume, for myself, that I am a confessed receiver of feelings (unfiltered, unfortunately I think. I’m still deciding).

As if my heart were a magic pot that adapts to the volume of feelings received without ever overflowing or being too full, it is always open and why not say it, always going through a squeeze.

The other day I was listening to a lecture by Gasparetto where he said that we idealize relationships a lot and, “if it’s one of those romantics, then they’re the ones who screw up the most and butt heads,” he said. Who am I to disagree? You know something, this Gasparetto!

So I tried not to romanticize. Let’s be practical! I spoke to my heart. That’s how life is, everyone has their way and you’ll never find that lid for the pan that people are looking for, the old slipper for the tired foot, stop it! That’s the way it is, we need to face the facts that the relationships that last are ones where one side compromises on what is unpalatable in the other.

But where can I convince myself of that? There’s no way, it doesn’t enter my head that it’s possible for us to have a relationship like that, and be happy at the same time. Even though there are differences, because I don’t live in the moon world either (I think), but there has to be a much greater positive exchange to make it count. That one about swallowing frogs, it doesn’t pass me.

It’s not possible that my ideal of relationship only exists in fiction and, if it’s still resolved, I need to find a screenwriter to grow old with me! But as I keep looking and getting frustrated, I get to thinking about what I want. In the kind of love I want…

I want a love that makes me happy

That you need my company, my smile, my good humor, my warmth on the pillow beside me. A love that vibrates with my achievements and shakes me in my defeats so I don’t give up for failure and give up. I want a love that shares the bottle of wine in the silence of the house and if at the height of the drunk you want to laugh and then cry with me, let’s do it that way.

I want a lover who walks barefoot on the beach, feeling the sand on his feet, the wind ruffling his hair, who stares with me at that immense ocean and breathes the peace I always feel when I look with respect at that imposing immensity.

I want a love who likes the same ridiculous music as me and who turns up the volume to sing that awful chorus we’ll forget next summer. And let him be curious and introduce me to new singers and learn a melody from me to sing in the shower.

I want a love to drink that cup of coffee with me on Sunday morning and drop the can of condensed milk with me, just because we really like to sin once in a while. I want a love to share the popcorn watching that romantic comedy that I love and that cries with me in that part where curiously many laugh.

I want a love for my loneliness. One who hugs me tight and says he understands that I hate being alone, but that sometimes it happens and it’s going to be okay, it’s going to go away soon. I want a love that respects my look of regret when I open the window and see that the day is beautiful, but that I feel like staying indoors, even so.

I want a love that has the energy to put on sneakers and take a long walk with me to get to a park where there’s nothing… But it’s a park, dammit. My love would understand how this already means so much.

I want a love that understands if I spend hours absorbed in the comments of the things I write and if I get lost in the hours rambling on the texts of my thoughts and miss the time to go to bed.

I want a love that understands that sometimes I will kiss my children and feel that they are the most important thing in my life, and I will smell their necks while they sleep and cuddle with them and forget about the world, forget about going back to my bed or getting them out of there, because I really wanted that moment to last as long as possible. They’ll grow up… And they won’t let me sniff their necks anymore… I don’t want to miss these “let me be with you” pleas until they come out of my mouth.

I want a love for my PMS moments, when my own thoughts drive me out of my mind and I end up snapping at myself in a snippy response. As far as he knows, it will pass. As far as he remembers, I’m not always like that. Most of the time I’m pretty cool.

I want a love that finds me a fun company, an intelligent woman, a needy girl, a human being with hormones.

I want a love that enjoys the company of my silence when I am absorbed in reading a good book.

A love that accepts my flaws, my inconsistencies, my romanticism and my immaturity, dueling with the responsible and sober woman I need to be in order to survive.

I want romance, affection, horny, practicality, responsibility, maturity, childishness, need, independence, sobriety and depression. That love who’s going to spend the last bit of money on pizza and put off paying the electricity bill, and who’s going to call the bricklayer when the pipe breaks and worry about the bills at the end of the month.

I want irresponsibly responsible love

That he likes the house clean and the clothes on the clothesline giving off the fabric softener, but that he messes up the closet and the bathroom and leaves several changes of pajamas in the corner of the room to tidy up later, when the mood strikes. Live in the organized mess of my life and don’t psyche about it.

I want a love that does not tabulate male and female things, but that we do together or separately the things we feel like doing, without establishing rules for who had that responsibility.

And wanting so many things of love, to later never find them in anyone on whom I projected my expectations that I judged to be too unrealistic, I understood and sold to my ex-loves that it was my fault. “It’s not you, it’s me”, was the key to my speech about the end I always established in my relationships.

Finally, by repeatedly questioning myself about the kind of love I want and embittering in the loneliness of emptiness by not finding that feeling in someone, I think I have finally found the kind of love  I need, who understands me, understands my needs, respects my limitations and imperfections and makes me very special when she sees my potential, my qualities  and the reasons why I am, although I am too demanding with myself and whoever goes with me, a woman worth living with.

I eagerly searched someone for the answer to what I wanted, and I overloaded many with what I needed, to finally calm my heart in the encounter with this love that fills me and is teaching me to take care of my emptiness, when it cannot be filled by no one else. It is a patient and persistent love, and it will need to be, because I still have a lot to learn.

It’s a sober love, also known as… Self-love!

And when he arrived, I realized, I hadn’t been able to truly love anyone, because he lacked me and his absence blinded me. I realized that lived in me the ability to be what I want to find, so that when love comes, I don’t overload it with my wanting, but know how to be, simply, someone’s love.