Fools Don’t Rush In…Or Rush Out

“Wise men say only fools rush in…”

I don’t agree.

Fools don’t rush in. Neither do they rush out.

Period.

Nothing feels as blissful as the day when you realise that you have fallen in love. Hopelessly. Or, as the excessively intellectually stimulated would say, risen in love. The story is the same everywhere. Everytime. The initial rush of blood to the brains (or elsewhere!), the giddy sensations, the goose pimples, the stomach butterflies, the coy smiles, the touches, the constant thoughts of the ‘object of affection’, dates, phone calls. Get the drift?

And then? What happens after a few months? When everything has been done? When it doesn’t feel new anymore? When you start getting used to the person? When he starts to become your habit? When you no longer see him through your rose tinted glasses? When the cons are also dancing in front of you? Love goes?

You will be surprised to know that some will reply in the affirmative. What kind of crappy love that is I can’t fathom though. Why must infatuation, crush, lust be termed as love? Because that’s what such emotions are. It’s definitely not love.

If you love the idea of falling in love more than actually being in love then you really are not in love. Awesome! This sentence sounds as complicated as love really is. On second thoughts, no. It really isn’t. You just need to read it a little slowly to understand. That’s love too. Go slow. Understand it. Feel it. Get it into your system. Don’t let it go. Handle all the ups and downs. Accept the challenges and flaws. Enjoy the feeling.

I don’t see this kind of love often nowadays. I have grown up on it though. Parents. Grandparents. They really did belong to a different generation. One where people understood and respected this feeling. Love, then, wasn’t hurried. It was slow. It was an understanding. It was the recognition of the fact that no one is perfect. Couples believed in making things work. Some term it as compromise. They say that these people were fools. They weren’t. What they did wasn’t a compromise. It was a belief in each other. A desire to stay together. To put in effort to overcome the challenges. To have an honest relationship. To be independent and yet be dependent on each other. And that is why when I see an old couple walking in the park, I smile. At them. And at myself.

But nowadays? Lucky are those who have experienced this. Bless the existence of such couples. Else, love now, is all just about words and a lot of sex. Yes really! That’s all there is to it. Basically since people have turned so ‘brainy’ these days it is no wonder that when the words start to become stale and the sex becomes predictable, the so-called love flies out of the window too. Greener pastures and attractive fish have become easy to find now. We don’t want to look after the field that we have or nurture the fish that is ours. We feel claustrophobic very easily. We want to break free. But what are we trying to break free from? The very same thing that should form the base of our existence?

Pity!