A revision

This is a revision of the entry that I posted a couple of months ago in what might be my second blog back when I was, shall we say, "hurting". Even the greatest writers revise their works. There's Milan Kundera, William Faulkner, Ernest Hemingway, and Joyce Carol Oates, to name a few. Now I'm not saying I'm a great writer like them (although that would be pretty neat if I were). I was merely justifying myself. Also, reading through my previous posts in my ancient friendster blog brings back painful memories and somehow I like feeling the pain again (admit it, we like getting hurt; for some intangible reason, we all want to invite a little drama in even if we try to deny it -- denial isn't the longest river in Egypt). Anyway, here's the newly-revised post:

Love nowadays corresponds to an impetuous desire to be seen and to be with someone (preferably someone who’s hot, good-looking, has superhuman boobs, butt as well as other bulging parts, and, if not loose, then that someone must be willing to go past the first three bases…ahh…the perfect mate!). Sadly enough, that’s all there is to it. Purely physical.

Apparently, the word “love” merely serves as a dulcifying agent for sugarcoating the whole phallic-oriented relationship to attain carnal pleasure, let alone coquettish relief. Like I said on my previous entries, relationships are full of lies.

Contemporary love is overflowing with misplaced passions, exuberant liaisons by unfaithful people, inextinguishable flames, and unappeasable hunger for flesh (not just for one person’s flesh but from many others’ as well).

It’s a game, they say. A game which has rules that do not take a stand on human rights issues. Hurting someone isn’t much of a worry (well, what d’ya know? It’s sadist-friendly!).

It’s like playing basketball (the sports I’ve always hated…not that I’ve ever fancied any), only more brutal. It’s either you go and win it or you end up feeling used and defeated. That’s just how the game goes. Someone may go as low as stooping beneath sea-level just to attain victory. One may also try to crush other people’s toes, hands, shoulders, and heads in order to be triumphant (snap! I should’ve paid more attention to P.E. 4 - Basketball!!! =P).

But like every existing concept, it too, has a twist: an exchange of partners or an addition of it (people nowadays love to party…die-hard party animals…third parties, fourth and fifth, and so on), people posing as whoever it is you expect them to be (worse than doppelgangers…they come in many varieties, either lying-sexually-addicted-fatuous jerks, gay people pretending to be their “otherwise” counterparts, seemingly pious individuals who’re actually devious varmints, people who pretend to care just to get a taste of your juice and then they become callous when they get tired of their gustatory perception of you and decide to find someone else new to screw, etcetera, etcetera), reversal of roles and standings (more than just positions), and even a loss of emotions which we call insensitivity. This happens when people have had enough of each other, when they have grown used to having you around. To them, it’s already a habit. Nothing excites them anymore.

Guys are nice to ugly girls because they are either ugly too and/or these girls have the basic things a man needs in a woman: mountain ranges and a mysterious, gratifying cave. But they’re even nicer to pretty girls because, well, they’re the complete package. But then they always want more. One pussy isn’t enough! Slices aren’t enough! They need to eat the whole cake plus other layers of new ones to make them feel satisfied and manly (Exhibit A = meet my dad; Exhibit B = pius).

There. I have just presented one of the saddest facts of life. Don’t get me wrong, girls cling to ugly guys when they’re hopeless too. It’s just that usually, it’s the guys who get out of control and easily resort to desperate measures (sounds like many others whom I know).

With all of these in mind, it’s no wonder why love is at it is now. Whatever happened to the poetry in love? What happened to love itself? Whatever happened to “I want to make your blood flow through your veins like a river of milk”? and where now is the “splitting of the heart open and the spilling of passion through”???…

Love today isn’t as complex and as deep as before anymore. It’s a good thing that I won’t get to live in the next century and experience the kind of love that’ll be there Probably worse than what we have now. Probably none (whew! not being a Hindu has its benefits, after all!)

“I can barely feel it now… I must keep the love alive…”
– Madame Bovary