WHAT IS LOVE? WHAT IS INTIMACY?

Maxwell from Misanthropy Chronicles is our guest poster today. Welcome, Maxwell!

What is Love?

Baby, don't hurt me. DON'T hurt me!

NO MORE!!!

So, this whole “What is love/intimacy?” thing is a bit antithetical to what my blog tends to talk about. But Janie asked, and since she was one of the few people who supported me on what is, undoubtedly, my most poorly received blog post, I knew I had to answer the call.

I'm awesome. Tell your friends.

Anyway, love/intimacy... I consider myself to have been in love/intimacy three times. I'll start chronologically.

The first time was with a girl I had dated for about 11 months in college. The bulk of our relationship was built on a close friendship. We had known each other for years before we ever actually dated.

I mean, I had groped her years before we ever kissed. It was that sort of friendship.

The love and intimacy stemmed from the friendship we had built over many years. We knew each other so well that we didn't have to go through any of that “are we compatible?” shit. And yes, save for the sex, the first several months of any relationship are shit. We avoided all that shit, because we were awesome.

Like constipation, assuming you don't think too deeply about that metaphor.

But, over time, we learned we didn't work as a couple. Plus, distance didn't help. Boo.

Also, apropos of nothing I've stated here, this was the girl who tried to get 4,000 women to simultaneously murder me.

Years later, came love/intimacy #2. This was someone I went to grad school with. We knew each other for about six months before we ever started dating.

This relationship lasted 3.5 years. We were studying the same thing, so we had a lot of shared common knowledge and friends. Thinking back on this, I think this is where our intimacy stemmed from – we knew so much of the same stuff that we could get into really deep conversation about our field of study without having to deal with anything real.

Fun story: One night, this ex and I went out for a nice meal. It was one of our date nights, and we were both looking forward to it. We had been dating for years at this point. During dinner, we got into one of our typical discussions on research we were doing. This was a particularly in-depth discussion, as we were getting into the nuances of the subject material. When our bill came, with both burst out laughing. The waiter, without asking or any prompting from us, split the bill. He had overheard enough of our conversation to assume that we were not even slightly romantically involved.

We thought it was funny at the time. Though I kinda wanted to punch the waiter in the junk.

Currently, I'm in love/intimacy #3. God willing, the third and final time I have to deal with this shit.

By far, this is the easiest one. I'm myself. She's herself. We're similar, yet different. We have very different views on life, but similar views on the things that matter.

• Kids? Same (none)
• Religion? Same (none)
• Interpersonal relations? Insulty (my nickname for her is “Slutty Face”; I'm in her phone as “Ass Face”)
• Living together before marriage? Yes (we are)
• Marriage? Sure (but no rush)
• Wedding? I guess... (but fuck that shit – elope)
• Chores? Shared (like a boss)
• Decorations? Complementary (I'm function; she's form)

You get the point.

Everything about this relationship is easy. It's perfect. It's been going on (mostly) for over a year. The parts that weren't on were due to distance (an obstacle which has been overcome).

So what is love/intimacy?

• It's the ability to wake up in the morning and say “Get out of the bed, you dirty whore!” then follow it up with “Now tuck me back in and snuggle me.”
• It's being able to turn a forcibly picking of the nose into a sexually intimate moment.
• It's being able to have a conversation about a TV show you're watching while in the bathroom pooping.

You get the point.

Basically, it's easy. RSDW (my bloggy nickname for the GF) and I were long-distance for several months. Whenever she and I were together, it was easy. When we were apart, the relationship was still fine; it was the individual parts that were hard. Grocery shopping for myself sucked, and is something I avoided at all costs. Grocery shopping with her was easy and fun. House upkeep I never used to do, and when I did, was awful and poorly done. Since we've moved in together, it's easy and happily done.

You get the point.

No, the birds don't sing when RSDW and I are together. Disney movies make no more sense, and they can largely suck on my unwashed, freshly-evacuated asshole. Jesus has no part in our relationship, save for when one of us screams “Jesus Fucking Christ” during the throes of orgasm.

Since we now live together, RSDW's mother likes to use the (ridiculous) phrase: “Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?”

Excuse the inappropriately- and overextended-metaphor, but when you love the cow so much you can't imagine life without it, you fucking buy it.

That's what love/intimacy is. You get the point.

Bravo, Maxwell! I'm glad you love the cow so much. Congratulations and thanks again. Please leave Maxwell some love in your comments. He pretends he's not sweet and loving, but trust me, he is.