DO I still think of love? Of course. I’m old but not dead—yet. But not often of the romantic nature though how does one really think of love and never in a romantic light?
Why does one’s heart beat faster for one but behave normally for the rest? At my age, palpitations could be diagnosed as premature ventricular contractions (PVCs). In medical literature—alcohol, certain drugs, high levels of adrenaline, exercise and caffeine can cause PVCs.
So really, you can’t be sure it’s love. It could just be arrhythmia.
When you’re young, a boy you like only needs to look at you and you’re giddy. If he walks over to you and talks to you, it’s over. Crushing is easy. Falling in love is a heartbeat away. And love? When you’re young, all you want to do is “fall in love,” not really “love.”
Last year, I was on a plane and supremely annoyed by this foreign guy who kept looking at me so that when I couldn’t find my phone at the end of the flight, you can imagine what my conclusion was. My brother almost fell out of his seat laughing because I was about to accuse the guy of theft. But my phone turned up. “Oh well,” I told my brother, “it’s his fault for looking at me all the time.”
At my age, when someone looks at me, I think—drug smuggler, serial killer, salisi gang member—definitely all with criminal intentions.
How do you define something that makes you both selfish and generous? How do you define something that brings out the best and the worst in you? How do you define something that is both delightful and agonizing?
How can something give you both bliss and grief at the same time? How can something have the power to catapult you to dizzying heights as well as plunge you into abysmal depths? How do you define something that gives you the faith to forget the past and the courage to hope for a future—despite the odds?
At my age, I have no definitions left for love because none of my hypotheses have worked out. Now, I’m too old to make another hypothesis and frankly, too tired to put one to a test.
Perhaps, I should take the romantic out of love. It’s the only way for it to be authentic. Perhaps, platonic is better. It often is. But perhaps, better is not the right word. Perhaps, different is the better word because while both are good, they are not the same. So why not both?
Some people are made for the carousel. Some people are made for the roller coaster. I like to think that God made me for both. That’s why I’m the girl who wants everything.
Do I still think of love? Of course. Not often. But suffice it to say that my heart still skips a beat when so inclined and suitably reminded that my blood is still flowing and my heart is still pumping.
Is it love? More likely it’s due to increased blood circulation on account of regular high intensity interval training.