Dead love. A Short Story.

We sat on the couch side by side staring out into oblivion. The tv was on but it had been half an hour since I'd actually listened to the scripted storyline. My mind was flooded with thoughts. I felt so confused. I didn't know what to think about us anymore. What had happened? I wondered. Had our love died?

I looked into his eyes and saw just a fading glimmer of passion. We had it before but things had fallen apart at some point. I felt more frustrated than not these days. I didn't understand how I'd lost grip of our love. It was as though we co-existed now. Sometimes, we were superbly happy. We laughed and joked. Other times, I couldn't be sure that he loved me at all. He could be so cruel, so hurtful. It made me want to lash out. To yell and scream at him because he was hurting me and did not seem to care. And sometimes, I did. Did he care? Did he want to be with me at all anymore? What happened to the loving, caring, sweet man that I fell for so long ago? Had he faded with time? Had I only been idealizing this man? Had he ever even existed?

After all, it is true that we tend to find what we look forward and if we don't find exactly what we are looking forward we adapt. Sometimes, that adaptation means that we lower our standards. Other times, it means that we just pretend. We idealize what we do have. Saying that in the best moments, in the best situations, things are wonderful. It's similar to the battered-woman syndrome in that way. The woman's boyfriend/lover/husband beats them but later apologizes or says that he only does it because he loves her. Or even better, the woman convinces herself that he only does it because he loves her. And she remembers the good moments. The moment that he smiles before he swings at her. The moments that he holds her afterward. The moments that he's sober and a completely different man. The moments that they make love and pretend that everything is wonderful.

So, we set out in the world told what the typical life events should be. One should have a fun childhood. Graduate from high school. Go to college or pursue a career. Find a mate. Marry. Have children. Teach them and watch them grow. Have grandchildren. Retire. Relax until it all comes to a peaceful end. That is how it is supposed to be. After all, when someone's life is cut short or individuals do not achieve certain things in life, it is viewed by society as a tragedy or a failure, respectfully.

Really, we put this pressure on ourselves. Maybe, I am expecting too much then. (Isn't this how we justify it after all? Settling, instead of demanding the best for ourselves?) Finding a mate does not necessarily mean that we will find love. Is it better to find someone who will be a supportive partner in life rather than a great love? Have we just idealized love then? Love cannot be unconditional because humans are imperfect. We will fail each other. We will let each other down no matter how hard we try not to do so.

I turned my head and looked at him. He was intrigued with the tv show. He just seemed to be so oblivious to my inward struggle. I couldn't talk to him about it either. I knew what he'd do. He'd tell me that he loved me. Maybe give me a hug. Then go back to his tv show. But there would be no discussion of how to make it better. He wouldn't actually listen to my concerns. He wouldn't propose solutions. He seemed to be so satisfied with our stagnant relationship. I didn't know what happened to the fun and excitement in our lives. I wasn't even sure that we could get it back. Was it too late? Was it something that I couldn't fix? Couldn't revive?

It was so sad that it all seemed so lost. It was in those moments that I could feel the depression setting in. I curled up and leaned over on a pillow. Without breaking his gaze at the tv, he reached over and rubbed my calf. I knew that he cared. I just needed more than the occasional pat. I wanted to know that he was committed to me because he wanted to be. I wanted him to show that he was happy with me. It took sacrificing on my part to make it work. But he had to give some to me too. I couldn't do this alone. I sighed and focused in on the tv. We weren't going to talk about it. After all, what was there to talk about?