What is love?

A few days ago my friend got married. He is the first one among us to agree to those 7 promises. Initially it was shocking to know of his impending doom, then it became funny but now that everything has been done with, it seems like a reality. On the wedding day we all friends gathered around him and wanted to know what’s the secret. Secret of love. Secret of marriage. Everyone of us has been in and out of love atleast once, all but me. I have never been in love, I have always been without. I’m proud, I’m not emotional, I don’t easily give in to senses. I’m happy.

Don’t begin your relationship thinking of sex.

Feel the real love.

There is happiness in just being together.

That’s when we had to shut his mouth. We couldn’t take his married-man bullshit anymore. But then there was something which struck me. Feel the real love. I don’t know if I have ever felt the real love. I don’t know if I’ll ever feel the real love. I love my parents but then everyone loves their parents, even those who hate them. Everything is sounding so cliched. I have always looked forward to the excitement of chase, the bitter the better. But then where is love?

I miss someone because she is gone, would it be called as love. Or is it more like, one gets so used to someone who has always been there and when they are gone you feel the void but it’s not necessarily love. More like a hoarding in front of your house which has been suddenly removed. You dont love hoardings. You love people.

Then what?

I so desperatley want to meet her but I want to appear so perfect and so smooth and so unlike myself that I’m resisting her. I want her so much that I’m afraid of losing her even before I’ve got her. I fear sharing her with anyone. She is making me want to feel extremely apologetic about everything I do. I’m always on the fringes, not wanting to make a wrong move. But I also know that she will forgive me everything I do, but still. I have started feeling differently since I have known her, I can’t pin-point what is it but Ahh! it is something fuckingly funny and good and at the same time it gives me this empty feeling in my stomach. I want to let go, but I’m even afraid to call her. She might be busy. She might be wanting to seek love from someone better than me. She may not be wanting to love me. Maybe she is just humouring me. Or maybe she loves me a lot. I have to ask her many questions. I’ll give her a tight hug when we meet tomorrow or day after or maybe after next summer. I’ll ask her, ‘am I in love with you?’.