We didn’t have to fall in love. No one does. Our lips never had to meet. What are the odds of that, statistically speaking? I mean, think about it this way: there are what, eight billion people on the planet? That’s a lot. And not only did you have to be in the same place as me, you had to be in the same time. The whole of human history that’s played out so far, and all that’s to come, and there you were, right here, right now. You and I exist in the same place and time in history, in the same place and time in geography, and now, you and I simply exist one and the same.
What can be said about love that hasn’t been said already? I’m sure I don’t have anything new to add to the discourse. Songs have been written about it, movies, books, plays, etc. etc. Not only does so much art and creativity cover the subject of love, but art and creativity themselves often come from a place of love. (Take, it from me, you better LOVE something if you’re going to make a comic about it, for example).
So what am I saying about love? I guess I’m just saying that it’s improbable. For two people to meet each other, for all the factors that must be met for someone to fall in love, well, it doesn’t quite seem possible. As I said above, you must be in the same time, the same place, but that’s just the beginning. You both must be ready for a relationship. You both must have room in your heart for another. Not everyone is ready to date another person all the time. There’s a lot of reasons to be alone. Sometimes it’s better that way.
But then, with the gleam of an eye, the brush of two hands, the sound of true laughter, it can all change. When you see the gleam in their eye, when you feel their hand against yours, and when you make them laugh a genuine laugh, that’s when it all starts to come together, and you feel your heart racing, your palms sweating. And you want more.
What it comes down to is this: improbability is a calculation of statistics, I suppose. And love, wild, free, is incalculable. It cannot be quantified, nor can it be boiled down to numbers. This, in a way, can drive a person mad. We, as humans, love to break things down, have numbers and figures at our disposal. It makes something much easier when you can dissect it, when there’s science and math that you can make sense of. But I’m afraid that it doesn’t work that way when it comes to love.
No, love doesn’t work like some formula. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that though. If you’re reading this essay, you’ve no doubt felt the complexities, the joy, the sorrow, the pain, the glory, of love. You know that love, though itself an emotion, can make you run the gambit of other emotions. It can make you happy, it can make you sad, it can make you jealous or angry. But the point is that, above all, it makes you feel something. And sometimes it’s easier not to feel anything at all. Thus, I believe love is not only an act of an improbable nature, but also a brave one. It is brave to embrace your feelings. It is a triumph to fall in love, even if, in the end, it breaks your heart.
The improbability continues because, as you think about it, you usually do not start a relationship by being in love. That part comes gradually, like a great puzzle being put together. A puzzle of yourself, where the missing piece is another person. Now think of all the courses you must navigate to get from, say, meeting, to a date, to falling in love.
You must catch another person’s attention. Something must be attractive about you, be it physically or in your personality. Then you have to navigate the nuances of it all. What to say on a date, what not to say. You must master the ability to double speak, that is to say more than you mean and or to mean more than you say. It can be quite complex. You must come on just strong enough, just firm enough, to make that person come back to you. Then, in this age of communication, you must have something to say, know how to carry a conversation. You must be interesting. The list goes on and on, I’m sure. I’m no authority on love, or on social interaction, these are just the things that occur to me as I consider the topic.
I suppose I’ve rambled a bit here in this essay, but there’s just so much to say about the subject of love. I have to admit, I never saw myself tackling the idea of love in a nonfiction format. It’s a lot easier to romanticize the concept in prose or poetry. But to really examine the idea of the impossibility that two people should not only exist, not only meet, but to also fall in love, I felt that this was the proper format.
In the end, as I said, we didn’t have to fall in love.
But I’m glad we did.
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