The Other Love

(This is a continuation on a post regarding what love is/isn't. Some of the posts in this series will be surrounding specific lovers or partners I have had, others more a comment on socially accepted behaviour. Today's series of thoughts holds no resemblance to any single interaction I've had, but attempts to capture many different aspects of romantic interactions in many different elements.)


Is love in the way he only messages me for sex?
Is it the sinking feeling I get when we're out and I know the night won't end without sleeping with him?
Is it the sense of obligation to give him sex?
Perhaps it's that bizarre sense of satisfaction from knowing he wants to sleep with me.
Or the fierce jealousy and competition felt from the idea of him with another girl.
Is it the fact that I'll dress to impress him when I know I'm uncomfortable?
Is it the scheduling of menstruation to compliment his availability?
Hiding the way you feel in the hopes that they'll beg you to be with them?
The way my mind jumps through hoops to figure out what he might mean or how I should react to what he says and does?
The desire to message them and beg for affection, then deciding against messaging them at all for fear of being a nuisance and scaring them away.
The fact that you crave physical affection, to be cuddled and held, even though you know if it were to happen you'd be frozen in time, thoughts racing, stiff and uncomfortable.
Perhaps the inability to say no? No to "hanging out", no to sex, no to affection you feel is unbalanced in emotional reciprocation, no to anything at all.
Or the inability to convey your true thoughts and feelings? Be it on the situation between the two of you or the hundred other things that are niggling away at your heart, chewing at your soul.
The unspoken truth that if they were ever to ask for anything, you'd drop it all to provide.
Maybe it's the way you become a shy, quiet girl in some settings, loud and defensive (aggressive) in others and in some you're the bright, bubbly and inviting individual you hope to be at your heart.
Could love be found in the false small talk you force in the hopes of satisfying his conversation requirements?
Maybe love is found in the way you freeze up when you're naked in front of him, to scared to move for fear of jiggling or upsetting his idea that you're not a hideous beast of some kind.
Is it love when a women picks apart another woman's body merely to feel better about her own?
Is it love to change your style to better compliment that of your partner?
Is it love when you know you're not listening to what he's saying, or you disagree or know you know better but say nothing for fear of being belittled for your opinions?
Is it the way you sit there, allowing him to fill the vacant space of silence with pathetic ramblings just to spare yourself the possibility of saying the wrong thing?
Maybe love is the empty feeling from looking in a mirror and seeing a shell of a human attempting to fulfill all the different potential desires he may have?
Maybe it's the lies I tell myself to maintain a life in constant misalignment with my values.
Maybe love is found in the way I've read a situation one way, only to discover it to be a complete other way.
Maybe love is in the way he says he only wants meaningless sex from me.
Maybe love is the way all his friends are females he calls "hot" or "crazy" or "his bitches".
Is it love for a friend to offer you money for sex?
Is it the way I act tough around males to avoid being seen as leading them on?
Is it the funny way I never have time for those that seem to be genuinely interested in me and those I'm genuinely interested in never seem to have time for me?
Is it the way we all seem to distract ourselves with casual sex and ignoring/avoiding/denying the existence of emotional connections?

No, I suppose I really don't know what love is.