Love means yakking and never having to say you’re sorry.
Recently I watched an episode of Wonderland, in which flatmates Tom and Miranda were looking after each other when they got gastro. The premise of the show being about couples at different stages of love and life, and it made me wonder if the writers were making a statement about love with this ghastly toilet scenario.
I grew up with Hollywood notions of love and, dare I say it, sex. Turning sixteen a girl is kissed for the very first time. High school is a John Hughes rollercoaster ride. Adulthood would be a world of unlimited freedom á la Tom Hanks’ film Big. Men are capable of declaring their undying love and sex is always sexy.
Okay so time proved that I needed a reality slap in all matters of the heart. I went through high school un-kissed, unnoticed, and I never had an epic day off of Ferris Bueller proportions. And don’t get me started with adulthood – I never found that dream job working in a toy company; and men, I had long ago discovered didn’t really say much of anything, at least out loud.
But that was okay, because after growing up and meeting a really, really, really nice person to spend my life with, and who didn’t mind a bit of conversation, I found there were much more solid examples of undying love. Because let’s face it when you live with someone and if they know that your shit don’t smell that great and they are still willing to share a toilet with you, well then, that’s called love. And I think that’s what the Wonderland writers were trying to say. Holding someone’s hair back while they chunder into a bucket is a testiment of true friendship and/or love.
After the Valentines Day chocolates have been devoured and the bouquet of flowers have dried up enough to make into pot pouri, what is love exactly? Love can be expressed in words, but I have learnt that it can have more meaning in expression [the eyes do no lie] and action. When you are sick and can’t get out of bed, and that special other person is getting you oranges and a little kaleiodoscope to play with that is love. When that person takes time off work to care for you, that is love.
Walking down the street I noticed a woman struggling to carry a potted orchid. She was elderly and took one slow careful step at a time and tightly squeezed into her side was a walking stick, which she couldn’t use because of the plant she was carrying. There was no question – I wanted to help her. She wouldn’t let me take the pot but she did ask that I grab her walking stick. We made it to her car, and to my astonishment I discovered the struggling woman had an able bodied companion sitting in the car, leisurely reading a newspaper, waiting for her to bring the plant back. She tapped on the car. He got out, transferred the plant into the car with noooooo problem whatsoever. The woman explains to her companion that ‘this nice lady offered to help me’. She was expressing her gratitude to me, but was she also trying to make a point to the man? If so I don’t think he noticed or cared. I suppose not everyone has the same concept of love. But in this case I just wasn’t seeing it. Because isn’t love in the small gestures?
So, what am I saying? I’m saying if you yak and they’ve still got your back, it was meant to be.