When most people read this, it will probably be the day after Valentine’s Day. Well, I hope you got it out of your system.
I’m not sure if love is a sham. I have my suspicions. As far as I can tell, love is just a cocktail of random chemical reactions in the brain. Still, I get it — chemical reactions in your brain can be a lot of fun. Alfred Kinsey and Snoop Dogg can both agree on that.
But now that it’s the morning after and we’re thinking a little more clearly, I’d like to make a humble request: Let’s all agree to never talk about love again.
I don’t trust people who love love. People who see a couple holding hands in the park and say “how precious,” or “aren’t you happy for them?”
No. I’m not. What have they done that I should be happy about? I’m not going to congratulate people just because they smush their lips together on a regular basis. I’d rather not think about their lip-smushing, thank you very much. Leave me out of the lip-smushing.
Weddings weird me out, too, for the same reason. I don’t know where the whole “tapping your spoon on the champagne glass” ritual came from, but it’s just plain disturbing. All that tinging and clanging roughly translates to, “we command you to share an intimate moment with your beloved under the close observation your closest friends and relatives.”
If I ever get married, the first person to pull that stunt is getting his or her face doused with champagne.
However, I also get tired of the “woe is me, I’m single,” types. Don’t get me wrong, trying to navigate the dating scene is exhausting. But if you ask me, that’s a pretty good reason to not worry about it.
I’m not going to tell you if I’m in a relationship or not. It’s none of your dang business. But during my brief forays in the realms of romance, I’ve found that sometimes talking about the good things cheapens them. I’m a big fan of words, and I think they can do great things, but if love is real, it’s too big of a thing to fit into words.
And, if I find myself in a place where I have to keep talking about the good things, I’m probably trying too hard to convince myself that something’s there when it really isn’t.
I think the same thing goes for the idea of love on a grand scale. When we’re inundated with candy hearts, rom-coms and Valentine’s chocolates every year, it makes it hard to feel happy about love. It’s hard to feel anything about love, except maybe a vague sense of nausea.
So, please. Let’s take it a little light on the love stuff for now. At least until next year, when I’m sure we’ll start binging all over again.
William T. Perkins is a senior studying journalism at Ohio University. Please note that the views and opinions of the columnists do not reflect those of The Post. Does the smushing of lips impress you? Let William know by emailing him at wp198712@ohio.edu.
