Why you should look for the kind of love you have with your children
There are many types of love. The strongest bond in nature is that of the parent and child. It’s the kind of love that says “I will cut my arm off for you.” And you actually mean it.
If I look back at my past relationships, and imagine myself in a James Bond style villain lair, with the threat of losing a limb in order to help them, you know what? I would choose my limb every time. I would hesitate, I would think about it, but deep down inside my truest reaction would be to save my arm. Think of my moral compass what you will but that’s how I feel. However, if it were my children I would hold my arm out and suck it up, without a second of doubt.
So I’ve been thinking about relationships. I’ve been thinking about the kind of love I want in my life. I want to find a man who I have such a close bond with, who I would sacrifice for and he would do the same for me. A love like I have for my children. I’m not advocating you wipe your boyfriends ass though (not yet anyway).
The love I have for my sons is the kind of love that still cares when they act like massive assholes the whole day. It’s the kind of love that still looks at them fondly while simultaneously wanting to throw them out of a window. It’s the kind of love that forgives them for pissing on my laptop and ruining the motherboard.
It’s the kind of love that has me thinking of their needs 24 hours a day, getting up in the night when I really don’t want to. It’s the kind of love that proves itself time and time again.
I want that kind of feeling in a marriage. The type of selfless care you can very rarely find. It’s the old couple that wash one another’s crippled limbs, stays vigilant through the night by a hospital bed, stands strong during dementia or cancer. It’s the kind of love that drops straight from the pages of The Notebook.
What it’s not however, is wanting to rip someone’s clothes off. That I’ve felt many times and it doesn’t last. It never sticks. Lust doesn’t translate to love. It falls apart at the seams when all is said and done. It’s the glue between an empty space. Lust is the sugar hit from a funsize pack of Haribo and love is porridge- complex carbs, slow release energy. Love sustains you.
The problem with lust is the lack of judgement. Sure it feels great at the time, until the Oxytocin wears off and you realise you’ve been shagging a lizard. I’ve had boyfriends who can’t get enough of me physically yet left me in darkness when my power cut out. That’s the difference. Love would have driven to me with candles and a pizza, or offered me a place at theirs. Lust is only there when it’s convenient for them.
It’s hard to differentiate between the two, when you fall prey to the bug eyed chemistry you reason it’s Christmas come early. Whereas that silent guy who’s always there for you gets discarded. I’m not saying go for someone you aren’t attracted to, for heavens sake, but if attraction is the only thing keeping you there it’s time to move on. Look for a love like you have with your children. That’s the love that lasts.