Romance is a concept that I’ve always adored. The notion that we can fall in love with a stranger across the room. The idea that you can fall so deep and so hard for someone, that all the priorities in your life become rearranged. That it’s possible to feel a connection so strong that true contentment is found in never leaving a single room. Dressing up to only be seen by one other person. Learning someone’s favourite colour, movie, what the particular thoughts are that match someone’s different little movements and expressions. To finish someone’s sentences, to find the whole-wide universe in someone’s eyes.
I held on to this belief through my first heartbreak; it was the first time I understood that emotional pain is actually physical. That it’s called a heartbreak because it literally feels like there’s an irreparable hole in your chest, as your mind rushes and rushes and rushes to find ways to piece your heart back together desperately. There were many times I fell in love again after my losing my first love at 16, and each time felt as incredible as the first. Surrendering to the magic that takes you over when you surrender to freefalling. How air feels different in your breath, how the world suddenly looks different – and how it wouldn’t matter if my wallet was stolen and my shares crashed, I’d be happy in that blissful state of oblivion – untouchable.
I did start to notice something, though. With each heartbreak I’d ask myself; why did you fall in love with that person? Why did the beauty you saw in them, change? When did they stop making you feel 10 feet tall? How could I possible love someone else, the way I loved them? How could I possible find that again? Yet the truth was, and is, I have and will. No – I will not specifically find that incredible individual again. No I won’t find their matches and responses to my little things; that will always be ours. Me and them, forever. What I knew and know about them will always be mine and theirs. How I saw them.
What I will find is another excuse to fall in love; in a different way – with new bits, new things, new matches… and it won’t ever, ever, ever be comparable. The feeling will be though. Because no matter who or what the focus of your affection is; love is love. It does not discriminate. And when you fall in love again, it will be equally as powerful. Equally as confusing and annoying and beautiful.
As I began to understand this, my understanding of romance began to change. I started to understand that the true love affair I was in, was with love. It was never the individual. I do not say this to discredit the remarkable humans that have, at one point of another, been the centre of my universe, but to remind myself that, I, was in fact the only common denominator. That the love I was feeling was that specific reflection of myself; and that a mirror of me can be found in every single human being. That my romance is actually with the human family. That my one true love, is each and every one of you – and what you all uniquely, and irreplaceably, awaken in me.
Some people ask, is it possible to have more than one true love? My answer? I believe it’s possible to have 8 billion.