Sunday Kind of Love

"I have found the paradox, that if you love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only more love."— Mother Teresa

         What started off as a list for a fake personal ad a friend and I decided to write for ourselves, is now a composition of the questions and musings these lists inspired. Further observations of what society calls "love" and a few mishaps of my own in the dating realm also contributed to the thought processes of this essay. While I understand everyone has their own take on what love is and how to identify it, I'd like to take a stab at it myself, whilst addressing society's skewed views of love and reminiscing on some personal experiences as well.

         I understand I may not be the most qualified person to speak on this matter, however, I feel like I have a duty to write it for the people I empathize with the most: for the ones who have nothing less than all the love in the world to give, and have shown, on numerous occasions, how capable they are of loving, and yet they have not found for themselves what they have readily and willingly given to those around them: pure, unwavering love. I write this essay with them in mind (and in heart), and hope they will find solace in knowing they are not alone in feeling the way they do, and that they are more than worthy of the love they dream of.

         It's possible that this essay will seem whiney or mopey, with undertones of the "the woe is me" sigh, but that is not my intent for writing this. What my hope for this essay is that more people will begin to understand why these feelings exist, and maybe even begin to sympathize with the ones who feel so lonely and forgotten. After all, that is the job of a writer, isn't it? To allow for an expression of feelings and fervent beliefs in order to inform others that these feelings do exist, and that they should be observed and treated as gently as any other similar emotions. So that is my intent with this essay-not to gripe or moan about why "I can't have what he or she has"-but to open up a world of confusing thoughts and strong doubts, so that, in the future, we don't look at them with disdain, but with understanding and care.

         "I want a Sunday kind of love; a love to last past Saturday night, and I'd like to know it's more than love at first sight. I want a Sunday kind of love "--Etta James

         One of the most disconcerting things for me, something that seems to be more prevalent today, is the concept of the material girl, and her "boy toys". Some of the girls I work with, however sweet and innocent they may seem when they're around me, can do a  complete 180 and act with malice and thoughtlessness towards a guy they like to either get what they want or to do it just for fun. One night a few years ago, when I was working as a cashier at the grocery store where I now work as a Starbucks barista, I was standing at the express check out lanes with my co-worker, Jade, who would eventually follow me to the damp, hidden corner of the store where the Starbucks is located, and who would, ironically, become a trusted confidant as we worked together more and more.

         We didn't talk much in between customers that night, probably because we figured we didn't have much in common (and also due to the fact that I am extremely introverted), and I became even more assured of that when a well-liked bagger, Wade, came over to grab cigarettes for a customer from the large shelves that sat within the express lanes. While Wade was searching for the requested brand of cigarettes, Jade looked over him at me and whispered, "Watch this," a devious smile playing on her lips and a mischievous glint shimmering in her perfectly round, blue eyes. She reached behind her and knocked over a package of cigarettes with her forefinger. Curious, and also out of boredom, I watched as Jade, once Wade had stood up straight after having obtained the cigarettes he was looking for, bat her eye lashes, flash an innocent smile, and swivel back and forth on the balls of her feet as she said, "Wade, could you pick that up for me?"

         Aghast, I plead inwardly for Wade to ignore her request; she was perfectly capable of picking it up herself. "Don't do it; don't do it, Wade," I chanted in my head. I realized, in that moment, that it takes only a matter of seconds to lose any respect I might have had for one person, because right after looking down at the cardboard box wrapped in cellophane, Wade sighed as he bent down to pick up the cigarettes before he returned them to their place on the shelf. Jade guffawed victoriously, as I smiled meekly, staring down the manager on duty, hoping, however fruitless my efforts were, that he had ESP and was receiving my signals for a break.

         It's not that I thought Jade was an awful, wicked person for getting what she wanted, it was that I didn't understand why she chose to do it the way she did. If I had tried that maneuver on my mother, for example, she would have looked up at me from her word jumble with one of her patented looks that was a mixture of annoyance for being disturbed and the unspoken question: "Are you kidding me?", right before blurting, "Get it yourself. You have arms." I wouldn't have had enough time to even try to bat my lashes or flash a grin, as she would have turned back to figuring out "What the over-worked songstress suffered from" almost immediately--not that I had even the slightest chance in hell of convincing her otherwise.

         So when I was told that Jade would be joining the crew at Starbucks a few months later, I thought, "Great. The girl who gets by on her looks. Good luck with that back here." Sure, she's definitely had more luck than I have on that front, but there's something about getting by on your looks that I find....well, unattractive. It's risky, depending on something that can change the next day, however successful you may be with it now. If I had to choose a method in which to "get by", I would rather it be through altruism or perseverance, or anything that gets stronger the more it is utilized, rather than something, like physical appearance, that deteriorates over time, and even sometimes, is taken away in a heartbeat. When you love someone for more than just their looks, beauty is never lost. One look into their eyes, although there may be more wrinkles framing them than when you first saw them, and you can still feel your heart pounding as wildly as ever within your chest and all the butterflies fluttering ceremoniously around in your stomach, dancing to a rhythm they know so well now. True love doesn't fade with beauty, it becomes more glorious and powerful with every laugh line, every stitch or scar, and every aching bone. It becomes immortal.

         It's a well known fact that youthful beauty and things like glamour, sex, and money are heavily focused on in the media. It's hard to escape, so it's no surprise to find it in day to day life, as it becomes engraved into the minds of some of the most susceptible targets: single women. One example, something that was also a catalyst for this essay, of this skewed view of romance and love is Patti, from Bravo's reality TV show, Millionaire Matchmaker.  Claiming to be a lover of love herself, Patti is blunt and  about how she thinks the millionaires should treat their suitors; with lots and lots of gifts and special treatment. While her intentions may have been good to begin with, and while she may not realize it, Patti is ruining love for the rest of us; the ones who don't need to marry a millionaire to feel loved or desired. Love is more about partnership than it is about showering the woman with material gifts. It's embarrassing for me, as a woman, to hear of such an unfair assumption about what constitutes as love. While it may be a twisted version of monogamy, it certainly isn't love.

"I look up to everything you are. In my eyes you do no wrong, and I believe in you although you never asked me to "-Josh Groban

         It feels like, in today's society, if it's just plain monogamy, then that's "good enough". It doesn't matter if the couple can't stand each other, as long as they aren't single or divorced, who cares about the mutual detestation? There is a customer who stops by the Starbucks every once in a while with a woman I always assumed was his wife. Thanks to the omnipotent and all-seeing ladies who ring up the meals at the small diner in the store, I've been notified that I was wrong in my assumption. The woman that is always with him is not his wife, but his mistress. Ironically, I had always really admired how they acted towards each other; like they were still newlyweds. When I discovered this piece of news, however, I was crestfallen.

         One of the ladies who does the cashiering at the diner had a good idea when she decided to walk away from her register when he came up to pay for the dinner he and his lady friend had shared, or, if she couldn't escape, she would over charge him for his meal. Infuriated with this man for taking advantage of having something many others are more than worthy of-monogamy and love-I decided to launch my own crusade against him. However, when he came over one night with his girlfriend, I realized I had forgotten how tall and brawny he was, and how he could probably snap me in half if given a reason. So when they ordered their drinks, I couldn't persuade my fingers to ring up more expensive drinks, and I certainly couldn't convince myself to forget my manners, as I wound up being as sweet to them as I am with any other customer on a good day. I even went as far as to remake their drinks and to open up the espresso machine to change the way it was grinding the beans when they came back to complain about their drinks.

         Mad at myself for not being to retaliate against these perpetrators of love, I decided on a course of action that might have been a bit easier for me to adhere to. Since I was already heavily caffeinated at that point, I decided I would uncover my geeky side and emphasize on that as much as possible. I even managed to launch into fits of laughter at the mere though of leaving them that night with holding my hand up, fingers spread apart, and saying, "Live long and prosper." I wanted to try and scare them off with silliness and a caffeine high, since they seemed to be the types to be put off by that, but I haven't discovered how successful my attempts were. I hope I succeeded, because, as hard as it is for me to stop, I don't want to continue treating them civilly and with the same manners I give to other customers. I disagree so much with what they are doing, I don't think I can serve them again, knowing what I do now.

         If the relationship between this man and his wife is so broken that he has to galavant around a midtown grocery store with another woman, then why is he still married? I understand that perhaps divorce can wound a man's pride and his ego, but that seems better than being a liar and a cheat. Yes, divorce must be painful, and I sympathize for his wife, I really do, but this man should at least have the decency to be upfront with his wife, whether it's discussing separation or maybe even couples' therapy. The dishonesty this man exemplifies is just one tiny example of why most relationships fail. There should be a test people take before they're married. Question One: In your own words, describe monogamy. Unfortunately, it's possible that a large number of people would leave this question blank.

"..But for now I'll look so longingly, waiting...For you to want me, for you to need me, for you to notice me"----Dashboard Confessional

         This particular man also makes me wonder about another issue: how is it that he can have not one but two partners, when I can think of many people, male and female, who are smart, wonderful, and caring and yet are still single? That just screams 'unfair' to me, as he is clearly someone who could not answer the monogamy question. So why does he have so much more "luck" than people who are capable of giving so much love and care that it hurts them when they have no one to give it to? What has he done that is so remarkable that he can claim his reward, selfishly and without any regards to others, more than once? There can't possibly be somebody for every one if people like him are taking more than their fair share. His predicament is a catalyst for great self-doubt for the ones who deserve true happiness, and have the most beautiful hearts. They unnecessarily question themselves: "Is there something wrong with me? Am I messing up somehow? Is there no one for me? When will it be my turn?" The kicker is that they have done nothing wrong. As much as it hurts to hear: it simply isn't their time yet.

         I like to think of it in terms of a toy workshop. People like the man who is cheating on his wife go through their toys like babies go through diapers; they treat their toys like they're worthless, throwing them to and fro, stomping on them, and even throwing them in a dusty corner, leaving them and forgetting them. Sooner or later the shop keepers will get fed up and stop making these people toys, saying, "If you can't treat any of the toys we've given you already, how can we trust you with any more?" For the people who have lived for so long without any of the toys others have had, or even people who have been blessed, but, through no fault of their own, have lost what they held so carefully and close to their heart, there is a special team. This team of shop keepers works tirelessly day and night, sculpting and molding at the block of clay that will soon be the most perfect toy for a particular client. A client who has exhibited the utmost patience and who, on a daily basis, works and lives and loves with their entire being, and still have yet to be rewarded for it. The shop keepers work for these clients, and they will not stop until they have reached perfection so perfect they will have to break the mold once they're done, because no matter how much they work at it, they could never duplicate such refined greatness. No matter how long their clients have had to wait or continue to wait, in the end, it's all worth it.

"I'll follow through, I promise to hold on. I'll never let go; won't let you down. If you can stay proud, I'll be brave somehow."-Gavin Mikhail

         When I look back to figure out my own romantic foibles, the first thing that comes to mind is my inaugural dating experience, which may or may not have ended due to American Idol, questionable sexual orientation, or delusions caused by an over eccentric mind. While I often try to forget the mess of mixed emotions, waiting for phone calls that wouldn't come, and being misled, the thing I remember the most, other than the scrapbook of Kelly Clarkson encounters, was how he held my hand. It was simple, but it's probably the only thing that doesn't make me look back at the few months we dated with horror and disdain. It might also have something to do with the next three guys I dated, however brief, who did not express the same care to me as this guy did. Even more than that, whenever he held my hand, I felt safe. Him holding my hand made up for him hardly ever calling, and in one case, after receiving a rather cold interrogation from a friend and co-worker at a company holiday party, when he reached across to hold my hand on the way home that night, it was almost apologetic, as, at that point, we both knew the relationship wouldn't last.

         Looking back now, even though I was angry with him at the time, I am thankful, at least, that he had enough courage to be the one to break it off, because while rejection hurts, it doesn't sting as much as silence. Now, I remember the feelings of comfort and security that comes with holding hands. It's a comfort synonymous with the kind that comes when a favorite aunt (or any loved one) winks at you from afar. It's a simple, yet loud, way of letting someone you care know that you are thinking of them, and that you want them to be OK and feel loved. It's simple things like that, I think, that are the things that people who are waiting for love want the most. Material gifts don't matter, as there is no way to put a price on the way you feel when you're holding hands with the one you love. There's no diamond in the world that could ever make you feel the way you do when you catch them staring at you from afar, and then gives you a playful wink when they realize you've noticed.

         I have a roommate who seems to know when I have to wake up early in the mornings, as she always seems to bring over her drunk friends to disturb my sleep these times. I try to ignore it, no matter how obnoxious it is, by covering my head with my pillow or listening to my iPod. One night, however, when I had already been disturbed by her and her inebriated friends earlier that night, I became fed up with the noise and, fumbling around in the dark, grabbed my purse, iPod, and phone, slipped on some flip flops and stormed at the door, her friends grunting drunkenly as they watched me storm out the front door. When I got to my car, however, I realized, to my horror, that my keys were not in my purse like I thought they had been. Leaning against my car, I sighed and glanced at my phone. 4:15 AM. What was I going to do? Where was I going to go? I couldn't go back right after I had stormed past their confused grunts.

         So as I leaned against my car door hopelessly, shivering in the cold, morning air and tears running down my cheeks, I realized how very lonely I felt all of a sudden. I conjured up an image of someone who would rescue me; who would answer his phone and ease my sorrows with his soft words like a warm blanket wrapped around my shoulders. It was in the parking lot I was standing in that no matter how many groups of friends I may have, it isn't quite as fulfilling as having one, constant best friend who floats with me from group to group and doesn't mind that I call at odd hours of the day, because once he hears the quivering in my voice, the only thing that's going through his mind is finding his way to my side. He is my hero in that aspect. And there is nothing in the world that I want more than him.

         I can picture him in my mind, from his actions and considerations at least, if not his looks. I can feel the power of his hugs, without even knowing who he is, because there'll be a day when he knows exactly when I'll need his hugs the most, and I'll be able to mold perfectly to the shape of his body. I can feel the warmth of his brilliant smile, not because I've seen it, but because it will be a testament to the light in his soul. I can picture him looking me in the eyes and letting my name roll off his lips as if he were made to say it. And no matter how hard I'll try I'll never be able to prepare myself for the power of his presence, because every time I'll see him it will be like seeing him for the first time. He'll dance around the living room as if I'm not watching because he won't care, and he'll know that I won't care how stilted his movements is or how his rhythm is always off; as long as he is feeling happy and free, it doesn't matter what his dancing looks like.

         And of course there will be the little things that he does, too, that will make my heart sigh with contentment. For example, he won't find it odd or weird that I adore anything Winnie the Pooh and occasionally watch the movies. Although he's not a professional, he'll take the chance to slow dance with me and he'll sing off key (or on)in the shower, and on occasion, will sing me to sleep when I am having a hard time falling into a sound slumber. He'll give wise and knowledgeable answers and advice without coming off as pretentious, and everything he says will be what I need to hear, whether I want to or not. He'll share my love of music and understand it's healing powers, and he'll be able to appreciate the astounding beauty of the Romeo and Juliet theme song. He'll be able to make me laugh as if he's been doing it for years, and he'll have an opinion on the satirical portrayal of Hamlet.

         He'll enjoy sitting at the kitchen table with me as we sit, sipping coffee and smiling at each other over the rim of our coffee mugs, and discuss politics, religion, books, music, and anything that comes to mind, no matter how trivial. He'll not only get along with my family, but he'll look forward to the holidays and family gatherings, and won't be put off by the competitive nature that my family puts up when playing our favorite game, and more importantly, they'll love him as much as he loves them. He'll want to come to the book store with me, and won't complain if we wind up staying for a few hours, because we are so entranced by the endless rows of books just begging to be read.  He'll be brave, honest, humble, and he'll be the best listener in the world. He'll be passionate and sensitive, independent and spontaneous, and, naturally, he'll be more loyal than I could ever hope for him to be.

         This is the man my heart longs for, because when you know that you are made to love someone so deeply, not having them pains you so horribly that you'll search for them tirelessly until you find them. Perhaps that is why people, myself included, will ask questions like, "When will it be my turn?" It's not because they are being selfish, it is because they are missing the person that was made for them. The one who will make the time they waited for them all worth it, and the one who will never let them feel the least bit lonely again. This is the love so many people are searching for, and this is the love that so many lost and lonely people deserve. This is the love, I believe, they will find when the time is right. And I will right by their side, waiting with them, because this is something that only someone who is feeling the same can understand, and so, together, we'll finally find peace of mind and heart.


“And so I tell you, keep on asking, and you will receive what you ask for. Keep on seeking, and you will find. Keep on knocking, and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks, receives. Everyone who seeks, finds. And to everyone who knocks, the door will be opened." (Luke 11:9-10)