Love is Over There

As a young girl, I would stare in the mirror and wonder if my face would change when I fell in love. How would I know that I was in love? Would an internal firecracker explode? Or maybe I would trip down the stairs and land at the feet of my love. I had the same questions for the terms nervous breakdown and heart attack but clearly love was the more pressing concern.

I watched Sandra Dee flail her way through the corridors of love in such classics as “Tammy and the Doctor” and “Tammy Tell me True”. I watched these movies whenever I could and as far as I could tell- when the arrow hit, Tammy froze in mid-sentence and fell into a trance with eyes glistening as love invaded her . A transfusion of sorts.

I knew I loved Paul Newman and Paul McCartney- that was easy. I practiced my marital signatures endlessly with hearts circling them. I imagined telling the maid to make up the extra rooms as the Beatles were all staying the night as I rolled my eyes in mock exasperation. Here we go again- another night of “ Love, Love me Do!”

For a brief week in grade six, I loved Michael Vos. I told my friends that I loved him and instructed them to get him for me. My people spoke to his people and on a stairway full of witnesses, Michael yelled up to me, “ I like you”. I replied that I liked him too and ran up the stairs before my head exploded in public. We barely spoke after our proclamation until he asked me if I wanted to French kiss. I didn’t know what the hell he was talking about but I sensed it was out of my league so I quickly recruited my best-friend Louise who hailed from Quebec and sent her in to handle the assignment. That was the end of our love.

Fast – forward a few years. I was working at my father’s stamp and coin store for the summer in the Minolta Tower in the heart of Niagara Falls Ontario. I had recently left the National Ballet School and was preparing to attend a real high-school for the first time in my life. Joe Salvatore the maintenance guy also attended the same high-school so I kept my eye on him hoping for some kind of direction on how to interact with boys who didn’t wear tights. We exchanged furtive glances as he lingered over a light-bulb change. This was the summer I developed my affliction for men wearing construction boots. Tentatively, we began teasing each other. This of course escalated into passing notes back and forth. We would linger by the snack bar after our shifts had ended -the roar of the mighty Niagara a constant presence. If you can’t fall in love standing beside Niagara Falls , your doomed.

By September, we were officially dating. I felt secure, entering a new school with a boyfriend already in place. We nodded at each other in the hallways, went to movies on Saturday nights and necked in the car afterwards. Now that we were in love, Joe stopped teasing and frankly, I missed it. Things were going swimmingly until one of my girlfriends said she thought Joe’s teeth looked yellow. The rest of my posse reinforced her assessment and I found myself examining his teeth every time he spoke to me. The disheveled guy in construction boots and overalls was replaced with a man-boy who used styling products and aftershave. As I listened to the squeaking of his leather coat during an evening screening of Billy Jack, the roar of the Falls was too many miles away. I could feel the love draining from my pours . I began taking alternate routes to avoid running into him in the halls. As I stood with my girlfriends in the parking lot, Joe pulled up in his car and begged me to get in and take a drive with him but it was too late. Love was gone.

I fell in love with a fellow dancer when I lived in Winnipeg. My first reaction to him was closer to repulsion, a definite tip off that something was in the air. We started spending a lot of time together until one evening he suggested we become lovers. From that moment on- I ached for him. The problem being when you surrender to love, it tips the scales. The mere act of surrender has rendered you useless. I longed for him throughout our 2 year tryst. We would meet in different cities for brief , intense periods of time. For me, the visits became fueled by anxiety as I felt my power slip away. I knew I never really had him. Towards the end, I literally threw up before getting on a plane to meet him. Now that -my friends -had to be love.
We are friends to this day and while I still hold a soft spot for him, it is crystal clear that it never would have worked out.

The alcoholic British actor- 11 years my senior that ran me ragged in my twenties. He loved me-he didn’t love me. He showed up-he didn’t show up or he showed up at 4am raging and twisted. I couldn’t stay ahead of it no matter how hard I tried and I was putty in his hands. Finally, after he had exhausted all avenues of my patience, the fog cleared. I wanted a love that could work the day shift and this wasn’t it. In hindsight, the whole thing was absurd but love had me convinced it was passion not alcohol that was behind his erratic ardor.

The day I got married, I walked my dog and asked myself, “ Do you really love him?“ Sure you have a one- year old son and own a house together but do you really love him? I didn’t have the answer. It wasn’t wedding jitters-- our ceremony was held in a private room in a restaurant with 2 witnesses and our son in attendance. As I said my vows, I was distracted by the tune of “ Lady in Red” gently wafting through the speakers. I stifled a giggle and got through the task at hand. I was never the girl who dreamed about the big wedding but this was bordering on vaudevillian. If I can’t focus on my vows, how am I going to manage till death do us part?

We crashed and burned through seven years of marriage, not all bad but certainly not all good. What used to feel like a united cause turned into a fraudulent routine. I would study other couples that we socialized with and look for cracks in the foundation. How can they still be in love? Day in-day out, what on earth can be so interesting that it makes them want to stay? Our relationship became toxic-- as far away from love as you could get. The only thing more complicated than falling in love is disassembling love. Facing the end of it is brutally painful, terrifying and un-nerving to say the least. It is no wonder many people choose to stay. Though I know it was the right decision, six years later, I still have moments of guilt, feeling like I chickened out.

Flying solo after being part of a couple is akin to learning how to walk again. I felt unsteady yet giddy with the possibilities. That is until I had to mow the lawn, shovel the driveway, hang outdoor Christmas lights and check the oil in my car.
Still, I roamed the streets without an internal curfew, stopped monitoring what I said and how I said it, watched a flurry of mindless television shows without judgement and basically gave my personality its own key to the house again.

It’s been over six years since I’ve been in love. Sure I love my family and friends and dogs but that’s easy. And by the way why is that so much easier??

We are conditioned to believe we are incomplete without a mate. I have been functioning incompletely fairly well though I do miss the imprint of love. I try to imagine someone sitting on the other end of my couch or sharing complaints at the end of the day and I don’t know how that would work anymore. I look at other couples and wonder “ Why do you get to be in love? “

It’s been so long that I sometimes forget my status. I’ll be out at a social gathering with a bunch of other couples, yammering away when it suddenly hits me. You’re incomplete, what the hell do you think your doing here?? Your incompleteness is making everyone extremely uncomfortable. Go home!

I recently asked a friend of mine who is recently single what she would have done if I had told her 20 years ago that we would still be talking about boys and how to find love at our age. She answered, “ I would have gently taken you by the arm and waded into the water.”
I’m not there yet. I miss love , I don’t know if I will ever find it again or figure out how its supposed to feel -but for now I have to keep believing that love is simply over there.