I have always been a fan of romantic comics, songs, stories, and movies, something which will probably never change. But what I find appealing or rewarding about them has undergone a profound transformation. Where I once turned to such media to seek out a source of feelings and events that I would like to then find reflections of in real life, now it is the reverse; I am most engrossed, most satisfied, most breathtaken by the love in my real life, and the media are the reflections in which I can be reminded of what I must hold so precious in my everyday life, lest I take it for granted.
Love in the imaginary world is effortless. A few strokes of the fingertips, and suddenly a man has sacrificed his life for the woman he loves. A few strokes of the pen, and a woman has forgiven all her lovers’ transgressions. Love in the real world takes effort, and the fact that ordinary people become extraordinary lovers is a testament to the capacity of the human heart.
Just today, I was chatting with an incoming grad student who had hit it off with another student some time ago, but who held off on a relationship because she was returning to Europe. And yet, when she moved back across the ocean, the feelings didn’t fade, and acting on her regret, she mused to him that they might be together. He responded that she would have to return to the States if she really meant what she said, and – she had this sparkle of magic in her eye as she told me this – she found herself on a plane back that very weekend, and they’ve been together ever since.
In a story, you have a thousand lives. You can live a life in every country, live a life with every lover. That aura of impermanent permanence is all too apparent in “love simulation games” where you select a girlfriend (or boyfriend, as the trend continues towards girl-aimed games) to find out your happy ending with her, only to then restart and see what happens with the girl you ignored the first time through.
Especially in the modern context, we are exposed to a flood of members of the opposite gender, more than in any other period in history. And somehow, in the midst of that, I feel like the bonds between spouses are stronger and more symmetric than ever before, and certainly no less loyal. How is the heart able to be transfixed by one other in a way that it will never let happen with any other? This is something I don’t understand and don’t feel a need to understand. Suffice to say that I am with the one I want to be with, the one I trust endlessly and the one who brings me happiness no matter how far she is from me.
My life is busier and more demanding than ever before. I have classes eight hours a day, experiments to do, and on top of that, assignments, critical readings, social activities, musical studies, and so on. That I am writing this at 4 in the morning with a quiz six hours away (that I haven’t fully studied for yet) is an unsurprising consequence of this lifestyle. But I can’t think about anything else right now except the one I love. I listen to ballads in the background as I chop away at a paper analysis and critique, and their melodies remind me of her warm elegance. Her love opens the solutions to my seemingly insurmountable challenges as I place myself before trial after trial along the path to my future, intertwined with hers.
Love can be thought of as two hemispheres coming together to form a radiant ball, but there is no direction to that analogy; the two exist in isolation of the world and time. That is why I prefer the image of a double helix, always moving forward and changing, but each spiraling trajectory always intertwined and bound and complemented by the other.
