Everything I Don't Know About Love

I think we’re all fools in love. In the best possible way.

That even though our hearts get broken over and over, shattered into a hundred thousand pieces, we tape ourselves back together and try again. We rely on the chance of love. The chance you’ll find the one during your morning bagel trip. Or maybe that’s just me.

If I were to recap the absolute disaster my love life has been the past year, I would probably be committed. I want to fall in love so badly that I search every corner of my life to try and find it. And so far, not an ounce of success. But, despite all of that, I think there’s beauty in ruin. Even though nothing came out of these potential end-games, I’m still willing to keep trying.

Dolly Alderton wrote “you were made so that someone could love you” in her memoir Everything I Know About Love. But, I don’t know much, if anything, about love. I don’t know what it means to wake up next to your partner and gaze into their sleepy eyes and feel at home. I don’t know how to get the guy. I don’t know how to completely open yourself up to another person and let them in or how to let yourself fall in love.

Art by Nicole Levine

But, I do know how to love; in my own broken, irresponsible, 19-year-old way. I know how to memorize someone’s coffee order. I know how to hypothesize the future; a garden party wedding and my ball gown. I know how to write down recipes so one day I can pass them on to the family I created. And I find immense comfort in knowing one day that will be my reality. Though, why do I feel so much pressure to get there right now?

We tend to place so much pressure on the future. The married by 27, two kids by 30. The “if we’re not married by 35 I’ll marry you” pacts with childhood best friends. The promises to our classmates at seven years old to be one another's bridesmaids. 

Do we, as a cultural standard, place an emphasis on falling in love because it’s a wonderful thing? Or is it some primitive, pheromone-induced quest to find love to continue the human race? 

My favorite band, Wallows sings “love, it isn’t life in your twenties/nothing much to look forward to” in their song “Treacherous Doctor.” This line specifically is geared toward the singers’ younger selves who are bright-eyed and ready to grow up so they can experience love and lets them know that it isn’t the most important part of exiting your youth, nor the most fruitful. In an interview, discussing this song in particular, Wallows said their goal was to dive into the “insecurities of growing up” and insecurities associated with love (Genius). Much of their music represents what it’s like to be a teenager coming into your adulthood questioning your youth, love, friendships—and everything associated with those feelings. 

This societal pressure has also found its way into other forms of art besides music like movies or books, like Charlotte Lucas in Pride and Prejudice who famously talks about how not being married by 27 has made her an immense burden on her family. 

And even though Pride and Prejudice is old and Wallows isn’t a world famous band, that doesn't make these examples obsolete. It means people have been talking about it for centuries and still are today. Consequently, that means for those of us who do feel this pressure—it’s okay. 

For myself, I want to fall in love to experience everything that comes with youthful love—even the heartbreak. But, searching for that has led me nowhere, except to hurting myself. Hurt by ignoring the red flags, trying to force things, trying to be someone I’m not.

This trainwreck has truly taught me that it’s perfectly fine to be alone and it’s also perfectly fine to want to fall in love. But most importantly, you have to take comfort in your own solitude. There is no missing piece. You are completely whole on your own.

For those of us who want to fall in love or are currently in love: I encourage you all to relish in your youth. And to write the stories of your lives which will one day be passed on to the rest of the world.

Lauren Smith