Expectations of Love: What Was I Thinking?

There’s two expectations I had, originally, and they contrast so differently that it gives me whip lash.  The first was what I had read as a little girl, reading about how the prince saves the woman, and they fall in love instantly and live happily ever after.  It was appealing in more ways than one.  Firstly, it was so darn easy.  Wham, bam: love. The characters seemed happy enough, but Snow White must have been annoyed at some point that Prince Charming or whatever his name is didn’t agree to do his fair amount of chores, or if he would roll over after sex and leave her unsatisfied and seeking help from seven little men. Love isn’t easy.  The books only ever revealed the Falling In Love part of the story, and never went on to explain anything else.

People always seem to say: ‘It was great at first, but it’s not the same anymore.’

Well, I was told by my older sister that there is a honeymoon period in new relationships, where it is eager, new and there’s rainbows and fucking ponies everywhere you look with fields of candy cane!

Maybe I thought the honeymoon period would last forever.  Maybe I wanted a prince to save me from where I was in life, and to whisk me away on his white horse and make me his Queen, where hopefully his parents weren’t too pedantic or desperate to be grandparents.

It looked so good in the books.

My other expectation of love was Love Games.  The Chase.  Broken Hearts until you get to thirty and men seem to grow up a bit and think ‘shit, I’ve been a dick up until now, maybe I should settle down’.  Hell, I’m 18, and yet I was terrified of the thoughts of guys using me for sex, being interested for a week and then disappearing, or saying they would be interested if only I were prettier, funnier, sexier etc.  Not all guys are like this, I know, but they were out there, a horror story all girls knew about and feared.  I had a friend whose mantra was ‘Never trust a man, Never love a man’.  You know why?  Because she had been hurt so many times before, and was scared it would happen again.

The other expectation was to expect failure in all shapes and sizes, and that men were jerks. Sex and The City (a fucking brilliant programme) showed these dicks, and the struggles of finding love and so on.

It’s realistic to some degree, and that’s scary. It screams ‘The world is full of nutjobs, where are all the princes!?!?!’

But let’s be honest…do I really want a prince?

I admit I was saved.  From depression, loneliness and thinking that I was just a blip on the planet.  I was rescued, plonked into a loving persons arms and kissed.  There was no horse.  No shining armor.  He came wearing jeans and a black jacket, smelt delicious, and was wearing the wrong shoes for rainy weather. He came over time…after he broke down my walls and gained my trust.  He became the prince (urgh, to be so cliche and gross about it).  Fairy tales let us believe it’s all so simple, and it would be a relief perhaps for it to be that way, but we always have to ‘try them out’ a little first because hey…we want Mr Right.  Not Mr Right At The Moment Because We’re Desperate.  Snow White wasn’t desperate, she was all innocent and shit. I wonder if she would be so innocent after dating for ten years with no success.

I didn’t want any games.  Heartache.  Crying over how nothing is going to plan.  But hey…it happened, but I’m still in love.  I’d rather have the arguments then to have rainbows and glitter sparkle, because it means we’re real.  We have real issues, real feelings and real ambitions. My ideal relationship wouldn’t be Long Distance, but you can’t pick who you love.  It happens.  Prince Charming or Cute Geek Who Smells Goooood?  I’d always choose the latter, because he’s my man.  He’s not perfect, but neither am I.

I didn’t expect to get excited for a Skype call, to be able to hear his voice after a long day, or to get stupidly happy at receiving his hoodie.  I didn’t expect to feel perfectly at home wherever he is, or to miss him as soon as the train starts to leave the station.  I didn’t expect to cry so easily after an argument because he means so much, and words were said that hurt more than I thought they would.  I never thought that I’d reveal my weird side, my cranky side, my insecure side or to be me with him, for real, because to be yourself with someone is some scary shit.

I never thought that he could say something so insensitive, that I’d go into a mood and think of all the ways I was right and he was wrong, and to find myself more in the wrong than right myself because I’m ruled by my emotions and he’s more often being quite realistic and reasonable.  Dude has intelligence…I’ll win one day XD

So yes.  Love is not what I expected.  It is neither a fairy tale nor an accident waiting to happen that will forever dent my view on love.  It’s real.

We just have to remember that people have feelings, and now and then we have to be wrong, and to be able to compromise.  We have to be more understanding and less selfish, and to be able to understand it’s not going to be perfect.  And why would you want it to be perfect?  It’s more fun an adventure to look back on. ‘Hey, remember that time we argued over who was doing the dishes, and I got so pissed off I chased you around the house threatening to delete your favourite programme off the recorded list?’  It will be something to laugh about.  It will be something to learn from.

Yes, maybe at the time it was the worst thing in the world, but hey…there’s more to life then clean dishes…but it is a good place to start.  Just make sure it’s a shared knowledge that the dishes have to be done.  Team work 🙂

But before I start rambling about dishes…bye for now, and I’ll be back to post later! Happy loving!