Instead, I wonder about our story. I wonder if I’m going to tell them how beautiful I thought she was. I wonder if I’ll tell them about her amazing smile, her gorgeous brown eyes, her kissable lips. I wonder if ill tell them, from the moment I saw her, I knew I had to talk to her. That I figured I had nothing to lose.
I wonder, if after all that, ill look at my kids, when they ask how I met their mother, if ill tell them I swiped right.
I hope not.
See, I’m the kind of guy that loves a good story, I love twists and surprise endings. And I may not look like it, but I love LOVE.
Like this doesn’t feel like love, this feels like some cheap and convenient version of it. Like its been made in masses for the masses. So we end up with stories that all end up sounding the same. Like mine sounds like yours, which sounds like his which sounds like hers. This commercial “love” has been marketed for quick consumption. These are fast food emotions, and with our busy schedules, we have just enough time in our lives to run to the drive through to order our one true love.
Like making a late night craving run, “Hello, welcome to tinder, what can I get for you?”
“Yeah, hi, can I get a combo number 4, the girlfriend, smart and sexy, with a pretty smile, a little bit of cute and funny on the side. Aaaand, a sprite.”
See, you can’t order love. This isn’t the home shopping network. Going through profiles at 2 in the morning, making bad decisions based on boredom and feelings of emptiness. In most cases, these decisions get tossed in the garage with the rest of the one time use bad decisions we make at 2 AM. With this commercial love of choosing people off a shelf, we’re setting ourselves up for disappointment. We find out the products we’ve purchased did not come as advertised. We’re so desperate for this quick love, that we don’t read the fine print. Sorry, but commitment not included, honesty and trust, that’s all sold separately. We forget that often times we’re so messed up, that some assembly is always required.
It’s a promise to love you, for better or worse. In sickness and health. Til death do us part.
Sometimes, I think about what I’m going to say to my future kids when they ask how I met their mother. This isn’t a sitcom, so no one’s going to introduce me like, have you met ted?
I wonder about our story. I wonder if I’m going to tell them how beautiful I thought she was. I wonder if I’ll tell them about her amazing smile, her gorgeous brown eyes, her kissable lips. I wonder if ill tell them, from the moment I saw her, I knew I had to talk to her. That I figured I had nothing to lose.
I wonder, if after all that, ill look at my kids, when they ask how I met their mother, if ill tell them I swiped right.
I hope not.
See, the best love stories don’t start with how we met on match.com. they talk about that time I got caught in the rain waiting for the bus, I didn’t have an umbrella, so you offered yours.
See, I’m the kind of guy that loves a good story, I love twists and surprise endings. And I may not look like it, but I love LOVE.
But this, this doesn’t feel like love. Our generations stories are posted on a news feed, our loves stories are relationship status’s, and our happy endings don’t exist. Instead, they’ve been replaced by hashtags and are retweeted.
Like this doesn’t feel like love, this feels like some cheap and convenient version of it. Like its been made in masses for the masses. So we end up with stories that all end up sounding the same. Like mine sounds like yours, which sounds like his which sounds like hers. This commercial “love” has been marketed for quick consumption. These are fast food emotions, and with our busy schedules, we have just enough time in our lives to run to the drive through to order our one true love.
Like making a late night craving run, “Hello, welcome to tinder, what can I get for you?”
“Yeah, hi, can I get a combo number 4, the girlfriend, smart and sexy, with a pretty smile, a little bit of cute and funny on the side. Aaaand, a sprite.”
Then you turn to your friend in the passenger seat like, “Ayo, you want anything?”
“Yeah, can you make it 2 of the same order?”
See, you can’t order love. This isn’t the home shopping network. Going through profiles at 2 in the morning, making bad decisions based on boredom and feelings of emptiness. In most cases, these decisions get tossed in the garage with the rest of the one time use bad decisions we make at 2 AM. With this commercial love of choosing people off a shelf, we’re setting ourselves up for disappointment. We find out the products we’ve purchased did not come as advertised. We’re so desperate for this quick love, that we don’t read the fine print. Sorry, but commitment not included, honesty and trust, that’s all sold separately. We forget that often times we’re so messed up, that some assembly is always required. We overlooked the giant words on the box that read FRAGILE.
Please handle with care, when I fall for you
I want to fall for you, but I don’t want to just fall for the girl with the pretty smile, everyone on Instagram already has. I want to fall in love with the girl in between the pictures. I want to fall for the way you laugh, the way you cry, yell at me, the way you hope, the way you dream. I can’t do it for the vine, I need longer than 7 seconds with you.
I want to get to know you. I want to know your favorite song is always on time because it’s always on repeat. I want to know your favorite movie is 500 days of summer because we’ve watched it so often over 500 days, fall winter and spring included. I want to know your favorite book is The Little Prince, not because you posted that on your profile but because of that time we got stuck in a Chapters, trying to find somewhere safe from the storm. The power went out on the block, so there was nothing else to do but get to know each other.
See, apple hasn’t come out with an Igirlfriend or Iboyfriend. There is no product, no new version of the Ipod or the Iphone that can replace human connection. Siri is not my girlfriend no matter how many times I tell her I love her. And as far as I’m concerned, apple has not trademarked “I do”.
“I do” is not a product that we can replace every couple years, it shouldn’t be a contract we only swear into because it’s cheap and easy. It’s a promise.
It’s a promise to love you, for better or worse. In sickness and health. Til death do us part.
I don’t know what I’ll say to my kids when they ask how I met their mom, but what I do know is it won’t be the type of story I can post or tweet about. 140 characters won’t be nearly enough to describe her or us.
On Blank Pages 