I suddenly remembered that I have lived all these feelings about another girl long time ago, at the beginning of my puberty. I claimed that I fell in love.
Love. Right.
Well, apparently it takes 19 years to realize that love is not about other people, it is about us. Therefore, it is not love at all, in its commonly used romantic sense. It is far more narcissistic than we suspect.
This girl that I am having troubles with, I have the very same feelings towards her as what I felt back then. Now, I do not call it love. I call it being fond of, liking. Even after all these stuff, her image in my head did not change much. I did, however, come to realize that when I see her next time, the ideal in my head and the real girl will probably prove to be a mismatch.
I concluded that this thing we call love is not more about the other person than jerking off is. It is not about the person, it is about what that person represents in our minds. When things turn out to be fitting in our criteria, we are amused. Otherwise we are disappointed, we conclude that things did not work out.
And then there is sex. I know sex. You know sex. No explanation necessary at this point.
It is like an exam we give to the other person. The questions and answers are already determined, it is about how close the other person gets to our answers, and how tolerant we are to mistakes.
Me, I am not really all that tolerant.
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