Definition

 

I used to enjoy answering slam book as a kid. Google says it’s a notebook passed around by kids containing questions.

Yes! That one.

Define love was one of the questions I used to answer and as a kid, I have no idea how to properly define it. So I went with this, “Love is love“. It sounded trivial coming from me but Lin Manuel-Miranda said it more with gusto, “Love is love is love is love is love“. I’m not sure how many times he repeated it but it stuck with me big time. I still feel a bit like crying every time I say it in my head.

Someone I know is having casual sex with someone she met online. She said she needed it and plans to continue doing it. I’m happy for her and at the same time worried because I know she has the “clingy” attitude  that will turn this from casual to an expectation game. Me, on the other hand is not getting any.

There is a reason I don’t want to open this blog to people I know because I have topics that I want to discuss that will raise some eyebrows. You see, I grew up in a family where love was never a topic. If love is a taboo then more so sex. We don’t talk about it at all. Anything that resembles a sex discussion merits some giggle and potentially some judgement.

I miss it. Haven’t done it for a while and I might have forgotten how to. Doing it casually crossed my mind too but I’m not like that. I did that when I was younger but not anymore in my age. I really thought moving here in New York will give me balls to be more daring (pun intended) but I guess it wasn’t really in me to begin with.

Sex is good and I had a great one back in the past. It’s more the conversation after the sex that I enjoy more and the one leading to it. Did I do well? What else can we try next time? Conversations like that and not the dressing up immediately after one of us comes.

I heard it once before that sex is the connection of the mind more than the body. I dig that. I like the body connection too but the mind connection is what I miss more right now. Self love exists and I’m pretty good at it. The mind connection though is terribly missed.

This is really what I wanted to say. I miss having conversations. The real, good, long conversations. The one that will make you think of yourself and the person you are connecting with. I’m not having any of those lately and I miss it more than the sex. I talk with family members and friends a lot but somehow I’m not aroused by it.

Yes! I used the word arouse to describe a good conversation. I want to get excited again and have my brain restarted. I envy my friend having casual sex because she sounds excited all the time now after their first encounter. Not horny but something in her came alive after the sex. She is now more determined to get in better shape and look good because of the sex. Something in her came alive and I want that too. Not the sex but the arousal of the brain cells.

Black heart.

I was thinking about the image I should use for this post and I initially chose the LOVE sign in 56th Street. It says LOVE in all capital letters, all bold and red.  The black heart represented me more now, hence the picture. It’s black not because of hatred but because I’m dead inside. I don’t feel anything. Numb.

What is love? Let me define it today with this current mood and state of mind. Love is.

I still can’t.

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