Writing about love

You see, that's what I'm supposed to be doing right now.

It's more difficult than it sounds. The task always reminds me of Raymond Carver's story, "What We Talk About When We Talk About Love."  It's a difficult topic because you want to treat it meaningfully without becoming so subjective that it loses all universal appeal. There have to be some universals, right? But what could be more subjective than love? How many of us even speak the same "love language"? Maybe we even define the word differently. So why read what someone else has to say about it? I'm not sure that I have answers to these questions. So I write what I know. The current story is a mishmash of my own experience layered with stories I've heard and strange daydreams of "what could have been." It might even be good. I don't know. I've received great feedback, still, it needs more readers. But that's not what I want to talk about here. Not exactly. The thing is that this process has resulted in a state of sort of reliving of my old love affairs. This experience hasn't been pleasant. Which is a terrible thing to say. But there it is. My past affairs have mostly been miserable failures. I've only known the roller coaster kind of love, the ecstasy that can only result in agony. Once, I had what one might call a "normal" relationship. It was nice, but rather boring. I was always "too much" something for his taste. I was too loud, too exuberant, too beautiful, I thought too much, felt too much, I wanted too much. I think I exasperated him most of the time. So how can I possibly write a short story about love? So you can read my dirty little secrets? To provide you with a terrible warning? What was it Aristotle said about the catharsis of tragedy? Going back to Plato's Symposium is no help either. Well, it helps a little. If you've not read it, I recommend it. But I'm not sure that it helps me with my current endeavor. Divine love is what I search for but I only seem to find the other kind and Plato's blatant misogyny always depresses me a bit. Plus it doesn't answer the primary question: what is it that we talk about when we talk about love? Desire? Passion? Need? Bliss? Contentment? Security?

What about adventure? Discovery? Are there new frontiers on the field of love or is there only love? Do you choose who to fall in love with? How? Is it better to be the lover or the beloved? There's always an inherently unequal dynamic in that relation. At least if we agree with Plato (which many of us do whether we know it or not). What if we seek equanimity in an equal partnership? Does that even exist?

You see, I have far more questions than answers and my own limited experience may only prove to be a terrible warning rather than provide a good example. "Messy love is better than none, I guess. I'm no authority on sane living."