C'est L'Amour
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Last weekend I went to Canada’s Wonderland in Toronto. I went on a handful of roller coasters and stood in lots of lines. And in terms of that thrill, that rush, that feeling as if all your internal organs are melting and going to explode out of your chest, it is the most intense feeling I have ever had. Better than the pathetic roller coasters at Upper Clemens Park, better than the time I pushed my car to 180 kmph on the highway and better than the time I told a girl I loved her for the first time.
I spent a week working up to it. I told her, over the phone, that I had something to tell her. And for every night the rest of the week, I sat petrified, unable to get it out of my mouth. I tried a few times, and instead of saying it, I was silent for a long time, and then the moment passed.
When I finally did, it was a big weight off of my shoulders. Like when the roller coaster finally comes out of one of those loops, or starts to level out after a big drop.
But she didn’t say it back, which brought on an altogether different kind of drop.
I seem to have bad luck with relationships. My relationship with Minnie, the girl, was a private one. We talked for hours and hours on the phone where I fell in love with her, but when we were in public together, she gave me the cold shoulder. It was awful and heart breaking, but I kept calling and coming back for more.
On a positive note, that was probably the worst “I love you” experience I have had. I have told five girls that I loved them. In at least three cases, and probably four, I felt that roller coast rush before saying it the first time. I didn’t suddenly understand what love, in a romantic context, was, but I felt like something was inside ready to explode and I had to say something to indicate it was there, and love seemed to be the best word to communicate it.
Ironically, the only time the feeling wasn’t there the first time out was with Wilma. She had just come up to Waterloo to meet me and travel back to Halifax with me. I decided, already, that I would wait until a few months before saying it. Our relationship had been mostly over the phone, except for some pretty hot make out sessions over the Christmas Holidays. I wanted to make sure.
But in a drunken stupor, after vomiting up all the food in my belly, and laying down beside her in my bed, it just came out.
That’s not to say I didn’t feel it other times with Wilma. There were times when she was working in the living room on one of her thousand projects, or curling up beside me in bed, and I was overwhelmed with that feeling. It was that way with four of the five actually (the one left out was a crazy short lived thing). That was often when I said “I love you.”
It wasn’t the only time I said it though. There were times when it was a reassurance (we just had a fight, and I said it to confirm that the fight hadn’t destroyed my feelings/commitment/whatever for her), a casual reminder (on the way out the door or something) or a response to her “I love you” (to let her know it’s a mutual expression of whatever it is). Probably more times than that too.
But it feels like there is a little something extra in saying those words when you have that feeling. It may not always be as intense as the Drop Zone or Top Gun, but it lasts longer, has more benefits, and has no lineup.
Last weekend I went to Canada’s Wonderland in Toronto. I went on a handful of roller coasters and stood in lots of lines. And in terms of that thrill, that rush, that feeling as if all your internal organs are melting and going to explode out of your chest, it is the most intense feeling I have ever had. Better than the pathetic roller coasters at Upper Clemens Park, better than the time I pushed my car to 180 kmph on the highway and better than the time I told a girl I loved her for the first time.
I spent a week working up to it. I told her, over the phone, that I had something to tell her. And for every night the rest of the week, I sat petrified, unable to get it out of my mouth. I tried a few times, and instead of saying it, I was silent for a long time, and then the moment passed.
When I finally did, it was a big weight off of my shoulders. Like when the roller coaster finally comes out of one of those loops, or starts to level out after a big drop.
But she didn’t say it back, which brought on an altogether different kind of drop.
I seem to have bad luck with relationships. My relationship with Minnie, the girl, was a private one. We talked for hours and hours on the phone where I fell in love with her, but when we were in public together, she gave me the cold shoulder. It was awful and heart breaking, but I kept calling and coming back for more.
On a positive note, that was probably the worst “I love you” experience I have had. I have told five girls that I loved them. In at least three cases, and probably four, I felt that roller coast rush before saying it the first time. I didn’t suddenly understand what love, in a romantic context, was, but I felt like something was inside ready to explode and I had to say something to indicate it was there, and love seemed to be the best word to communicate it.
Ironically, the only time the feeling wasn’t there the first time out was with Wilma. She had just come up to Waterloo to meet me and travel back to Halifax with me. I decided, already, that I would wait until a few months before saying it. Our relationship had been mostly over the phone, except for some pretty hot make out sessions over the Christmas Holidays. I wanted to make sure.
But in a drunken stupor, after vomiting up all the food in my belly, and laying down beside her in my bed, it just came out.
That’s not to say I didn’t feel it other times with Wilma. There were times when she was working in the living room on one of her thousand projects, or curling up beside me in bed, and I was overwhelmed with that feeling. It was that way with four of the five actually (the one left out was a crazy short lived thing). That was often when I said “I love you.”
It wasn’t the only time I said it though. There were times when it was a reassurance (we just had a fight, and I said it to confirm that the fight hadn’t destroyed my feelings/commitment/whatever for her), a casual reminder (on the way out the door or something) or a response to her “I love you” (to let her know it’s a mutual expression of whatever it is). Probably more times than that too.
But it feels like there is a little something extra in saying those words when you have that feeling. It may not always be as intense as the Drop Zone or Top Gun, but it lasts longer, has more benefits, and has no lineup.
posted by deadwriter at 8:26 p.m.
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