“When love is not madness, it is not love.” As I sit her pondering this insightful quotation (I don’t remember who wrote it, but I am not writing a grad paper so I don’t care!) I consider my own relationship, and the relationships of my friends, and my family. And I wonder is this true? Now, if it is, I am good to go, because believe me, there is a hell out a lot of madness in my life. But is love really madness? Madness of the heart? Of the mind? Of the body? Of my mental stability? Shouldn’t it be, “When love is not calming or soothing or RELAXING, it is not love?” It seems to me that that would be the more logical outlook. But then of course, logic doesn’t define human nature or at least any human nature that I have seen. So what should love be? Should it be a mix of madness and comfort? Does madness mean novelty and passion, and comfort means dull and boring? Am I bored with my relationship when there is nothing dramatic going on? Actually…yes. My boyfriend would probably agree.
One of my closest friends has been dating her boyfriend for over two years now, and I have NEVER seen two people get along so well. Ever. There is no fighting, no arguing, no uncomfortable silence when one decides they are not speaking to the other. Instead it is happy. Just HAPPY. They have a routine. They stick to it. She says she wants something, he gets it for her. She is upset about something, he listens (and get this…he talks back!) Many times I find myself doing the thing that any relationship advice column surrounds in red flags. I compare my relationship to my friend’s. And then throw it in my boyfriends face, listen to him get very angry, very quickly, and then blame my comments on hormones. But other times I wonder. Would I want that? Would I want to be with someone who gave into me every single time? Would I want someone who wouldn’t tell me to stop being insane, and bitchy? As a whole, probably not. I would rather the absolute screaming, deafening, madness that I happily experience with my boyfriend on an everyday basis. Sure, we yell, we argue about politics, religion, my disorganization, his over-organization. But in the end, we call each other out on our shit. And I have to say. I think we are better for it. (God knows he is better off since I came into his life two years ago!) So I will take the madness. I might even enjoy it sometimes. At least for me, it seems, “When love is not madness, it is not love.” Or something like that.