I reconnected with my beloved, nearly three years after severing all ties with him. It became evident that, despite his affection for me, our time apart had led him on a different journey marked by a focus on "duty and responsibility." Following my visit, we endeavored to articulate our emotions and the absence thereof. During a phone conversation, he expressed that romantic love didn't resonate within him for me. I grasped his sentiment, recognizing that our connection was not a conventional romance with flowers and candlelit dinners but rather a friendship ablaze; an intense resonance engulfing us with an unwavering flame of truth and unconditional love.
As his words never escaped my notice, I delved into internet definitions of romantic love, discovering one by Canadian sociologist John Lee: "Romantic love – the lover thinks constantly about the loved one, is jealous, unrealistic, will tolerate anything, is sexually attracted by physical appearance, needs repeated reassurance he/she is loved in return." Although initially disappointed, contemplating the essence of true love brought relief. For the first time, I realized that I, too, did not harbor such feelings. I understood that this unrealistic love, the starry-eyed kind, did not correlate with genuine love.
Romantic love often deceives us into thinking that finding the ideal partner, falling in love, and losing ourselves in that love will solve all our problems. Regrettably, when we awaken from this illusion, we may find ourselves in loveless marriages, wearing masks and concealing our true selves. Alternatively, we might be navigating a bitter divorce or separation, questioning where things went wrong. Worse yet, some endure a stagnant relationship, pondering in the dark, "Is this all there is?" and convincing themselves it's what they deserve. The co-dependency of this unrealistic "love" hinders personal growth, whereas true love involves accepting imperfections in ourselves and our partners. Recognizing the need for growth, we become catalysts for each other's development, nurturing, challenging, and encouraging one another to become fuller individuals.
I have always desired for my Beloved to actualize the person he inherently is, rather than conforming to the expectations of others, including myself. This aspiration persists even if it means he might drift away from me. Embracing one's true self is the simplest thing in the universe, yet conforming to everyone else's expectations proves to be an arduous task, leading us to adopt various personas and wear countless masks. My love for him is not a fanciful, dreamlike state or a fluctuating, ego-driven emotion; it is the core of my existence. I perceive and honor him as the boundless being of love and light that he is. I genuinely believe that he has the ability, and the right, to empower himself to follow his heart, independent of my or anyone else's influence.
Through our discussions, I came to realize that we sometimes restrict our freedom due to misconceptions about our true responsibilities. We forget that our primary responsibility should be to ourselves and to a higher power, to serve authentically and completely. What eludes us is that by doing so, we serve everyone, even those we fear may be hurt if we align ourselves with our inner truths. This doesn't imply abandoning longstanding relationships, but rather reevaluating anything hindering our growth and letting go of anything not in harmony with our inner convictions.
When attempting to comprehend why my Beloved exhibited conflicting behaviors, he maintained that we were merely "just friends," despite sharing intense, tender, intimate, and sensual moments even after three years of no contact. While our friendship held immense significance for me, we transcended the boundaries of mere camaraderie. Our platonic friendship lasted only a day or two before we shared a profound kiss, initiated by him and lasting for hours. During that time, the universe seemed to pause as we witnessed the birth of galaxies in each other's eyes. When we finally surfaced, we both exclaimed "Finally!" simultaneously, as if speaking from one mouth and certainly emanating from one heart. Undeniably, our connection went beyond the bounds of platonic and "friendly" interactions.
Once again, the crux of the matter lies in staying true to ourselves. Despite occasional momentary denials, he had, on several instances, acknowledged that our connection surpassed mere friendship. It would have been naive of me to believe otherwise, given the profound spiritual, emotional, mental, and PHYSICAL bond we shared during the summer we first encountered each other, and subsequently. Nevertheless, he often swiftly contradicted himself, asserting that our connection was nothing more than a "special friendship" whenever it suited him. Initially, this inconsistency bewildered and pained me, as I had not yet undergone my spiritual awakening and was unfamiliar with such dynamics. However, with my awakening, I came to understand that his insistence on us being only friends was a reluctance to fully embrace his truth, including the genuine feelings he had experienced and continues to harbor for me.
Yet, even he couldn't conceal those profound sentiments when we reunited after three years apart. The passion, longing, and love were indescribable in the way he embraced me and kissed me, expressing a deep-seated "I missed you so much" emanating from the depths of his being. His kiss conveyed an eagerness as if he had eagerly awaited every second of those three years for this moment, as if my lips held the last drop of water on this planet or the vital nectar of life he desperately needed on the brink of despair. When he later tried to dismiss it as a "neutral kiss," I couldn't help but question who he thought he was deceiving.
I had always been aware that what we shared, the emotions we felt for each other, was unlike anything experienced with anyone else, a sentiment he had often affirmed. Perhaps that's why he felt compelled to categorize and confine it within a defined framework (friend, lover, etc.), where rules could be applied. It was a challenging concept to comprehend, if not impossible, and he chose to dismiss it because he could. I had no intention of pursuing or pressuring him into anything. I didn't want him to feel guilty for not recognizing it, and I certainly had no desire to make him choose between me and anyone else in his life.
In the days leading up to my return home, his behavior towards me fluctuated between warmth and aloofness, a push-and-pull dynamic. To rationalize it, he reiterated his familiar spiel about avoiding giving me the "wrong impression," attributing it to my expectations. This puzzled me, as my journey to New York and him had been propelled by my spiritual awakening, without a clear understanding of why. Over time, I came to realize that it wasn't about my expectations but rather his fear of unlocking the depths of his heart. Pleading for transparency, he eventually spoke of an unbreakable bond, a profound connection, masculine-feminine attraction, passion, and unconditional love. He expressed a desire to touch me, acknowledging the electric sensation of my fingertips and their ability to ignite his arousal. However, he confessed hesitations about taking things "to the end of the line" due to my prior reluctance to see him and the uncertainty of our future encounters. He voiced concerns about another prolonged separation, reflecting on the pain he felt when I returned to my boyfriend and his fear of losing me again.
It took me years to grasp the extent of his likely suffering during the time I distanced myself. From his words, it became evident that he was still entangled in the illusion of duality. While he understood his soul and what needed to be done, the fear of change and the anxiety of letting someone down paralyzed him. Perhaps, he was being obstructed from perceiving the complete truth.
This became strikingly apparent during a car ride when we found ourselves in the wrong lane nearing a junction. Despite having ample opportunity to maneuver onto the correct lane with minimal disruption, he hesitated, indicating in the wrong direction. Encouraging him to make the necessary corrections, he claimed it was too late, even though it wasn't. He acknowledged making the wrong choice and comprehended how to rectify the situation but remained immobilized, on the verge of taking the wrong turn due to an unspoken fear. The parallel between this moment and his life choices was unmistakable, a realization I shared with him. I emphasized that refusing to address the situation in the present could lead him astray, urging him to make the necessary changes now before ending up on an undesirable path. The decision, I emphasized, was his alone.
Co-dependency, attachment, blame games, and emotional blackmail leave us with no choice. When relationships are sustained out of a perceived "duty," guilt, or reluctance to discard years spent together—even when love is lacking—true love is no longer chosen. True love is a conscious decision, a mature choice where individuals prioritize their feelings and preferences without compromising for approval. In contrast, immature, romantic love requires no effort; it chooses you. Real love centers on willpower, involving choices like "I can live without you, but I choose not to." It declares, "Life is richer with you." True love is the pinnacle of freedom, possessing the most significant thing in the world without claiming ownership.
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