(Also known as romance books, movies and songs)
Thank you, sincerely, from the bottom of my heart for creating a RIDICULOUS and UNREALISTIC set of expectations that no real man could ever fulfill. No, really, thanks.
It’s been a treat to see how–even with my extensive THINKING and REFLECTION–your inane babble has still somehow sunk into my psyche in a way that is both appalling and, well, just downright annoying. RIDING OFF INTO THE SUNSET IS NOT A REAL THING, SELF. GET A GRIP.
I’ll claim some responsibility, of course. I CHOSE to fill my mind with crazy chick flicks and terrible Christian romance novels that said going to prom was lame because it was an imitation of the wedding feast of Christ (what the what?!?). But come on! I was weak, young and naive. You were easy to read and filled with emotional manipulation! How could my melancholy personality I say no to such tasty drivel? I consumed those trashy elements the way I did my Easter basket–far too quickly, and without much of a thought. (Side note: Is it socially acceptable for grown-ups to get Easter baskets? I VOTE YES.)
Sure, trifecta of terror, you provided a lot of amusement. Particularly when watching terrible chick flicks with friends. (Really, is there anything more fun than watching an awful movie and mocking it mercilessly? That’s just me. OK. Moving on.)
Now that I am COMPLETELY WISE at the ripe old age of 28, I’ve decided that, well, YOU SIT ON A THRONE OF LIES.
Perhaps that was too scathing. Let’s just say at best, you’re misguided.
Surprisingly for you, trifecta of terror, my worth is not ultimately fulfilled by a man. Being in love does not mean I CANNOT SURVIVE without my special someone because, shockingly, LOVE IS NOT CO-DEPENDENCY. Love also does not mean FEELINGS forever. Nor does it mean that your loved one will magically be able to meet all of your needs–both spoken and unspoken–at all times (Yes, I know. I’ve ranted about this all before).
But DANG, trifecta of terror, if you aren’t just the most INSIDIOUS creature–and this has nothing to do with that weird movie (He’s an old lady? Wait! What is happening?!?). As I’ve grown, I’ve known in my head you aren’t the truth. And yet I still find you WITHIN MY SOUL. Insert sadface.
And so, trifecta, I DISLIKE YOU. IMMENSELY. I firmly regret every moment I wasted believing love was like the tangled array of lust, co-dependency and attraction lauded in your portrayals. I wish I had never allowed myself to believe–even in the most minute measure–that finding that special guy would complete me. I wasted away my time while wasting my time on you. I should have been living fully in the moment and focusing on glorifying God wherever I was, for goodness sake!
That doesn’t mean I’m done with consuming you IN ALL MEASURES FOREVER (I heart Jane Austen, after all). But no more MINDLESS consumption. And not with frequency, for sure! I may KNOW the truth now at my ripe old age, but my how easily that lie can slip back into my bloodstream. As an OLD AND TIRED fogey, I don’t want–or have time–to spend entertaining LIES, unrealistic expectations or stupid ideas about love.
Here’s the deal, trifecta of terrible, I want real love.
The kind of love that will be warm and fuzzy at times, but that may be hard and is often a choice. I want a love that REFINES. The kind that teaches me to be SELFLESS and FORGIVING and HOPEFUL. The love my friend talks about here. I want the love that Christ had for us when he died on that cross 2,000 years ago. I want THAT love because that IS true love. I want to pour out I Corinthians 13 love for everyone in my life–including that special someone.
SO GET THEE BEHIND ME, TRIFECTA! No more lies. No more unrealistic ideals. No more ultimate fulfillment and happiness in an earthly mate. I refuse to accept your definition of love–even subconsciously. You are not my standard for love (thank GOD, LITERALLY). HE is.