November 17th 2019
Today, for the second time this year, one of my friend’s said to me the phrase “when you know, you know”
On both occasions they’ve said it because they met a girl and basically instantly fallen in love with her. For a long, long time I thought that kind of thing only happened in books and movies, but if it keeps happening in real life I may have to start to rethink that outlook.
I think I’m cynical enough to not believe in love at first sight, or soul mates, or ‘the one’, because that’s just illogical and unscientific. But maybe love isn’t science. Maybe love is art.
I’ve been in love, but I’ve never fallen in love. The one girl I ever loved I’ve loved since I was thirteen, and falling in love when you’re thirteen doesn’t count. We were together ten years, so all I ever knew was loving her. I’ve never experienced an adult ‘falling in love’ stage, and so I don’t understand it. And usually when I don’t understand something I try to find the logic and the reasoning behind it and work out the science and the maths of it. But love isn’t maths. Love is art. And art doesn’t have to make sense.
In the year last year of being single, I’ve been so far less successful at falling in love than my ‘when you know, you know’ friends. And maybe part of that is because I try too hard to make sense of things. Overthinking is a serious problem for me. I think too much, and feel too little. Perhaps subconsciously that’s because if you feel, you get hurt, and then you end up sad again. And that scares me. But so does dying alone, so, you know…
And so I keep hearing it. When you know, you know. And the more I hear it the more I want to believe that it’s true. Because I’ve seen it with my own eyes, but, and excuse me for how corny this next bit is, I’ve not felt it with my own heart. Not yet, anyway.
Until tomorrow, when you know, you know.