Lo*ve (it’s Spanish)

“Love.” There’s an odd word. Well, as far as I can tell there are two popular ways of starting out a speech. The first is to check Webster’s Dictionary for a definition, then repeat what you found.

“Webster’s Dictionary defines love as: You stupid moron. How dense are you to be looking in a book for a description of one of mankind’s deepest, most important feelings? Do the world a favor and stick your head in the center of this book and slam it shut as hard as you can.”

After three days of intensive therapy I was ready to begin writing again, this time using the second most popular way to start a piece of writing: Word dissection. That wasn’t much help either…

“Love.” Well “Love” can be split up into two words, lo and ve. Lo, as in lo and behold, is a word used to attract attention or show surprise. And ve isn’t in the dictionary. However, in Spanish, lo and ve, used in a sentence means “to see.” To see? Actually kinda neat, really. From what I’ve heard people in love see each other for what they are, so it fits quite nicely. Although it could also mean to see the years of bitterness and resentment that are bound to follow, it’s really all in the interpretation.

And now I’m confused. People should need a license to use the word “love” in a sentence. And a diploma to use it in a body of writing. Or at least some type of certification class.

What was I talking about again? Ah yes, love. Well, I’m not sure that I’m the best person to even attempt an explanation of the feeling, because I’ve really never successfully completed the whole “in love” cycle. In fact, I’m pretty certain that I haven’t even started the whole “in love” cycle, despite numerous attempts with several different girls. The cycle usually involves two people, and stuff. And the stuff is different depending on the people.

You know, I can’t really describe the “in love” cycle. A writer should have at least a little experience in what he’s going to write about; like they always say, “Write what you know.” I, however, do have extensive experience in the ‘trying and failing’ cycle.

Imagine two people, Frank and Perl. Frank is a sweet guy with a bit of an eccentric streak, which, quite frankly, is what makes Frank Frank. Perl is a quietly beautiful woman who is content to sit back and take life in. She hates it when people spell her name P-E-A-R-L, because that’s just not how you spell her name. These are qualities that are irresistible to Frank. Frank waits in the shadows for a chance to strike up a conversation. After much watching and waiting a window of opportunity opens. Frank is armed only with a wavering confidence and a small glimmer of hope. His only companion is Joel, his personality.

Joel does the same job all personalities do. He makes judgment calls, devises life strategies, thinks of clever things to say, and basically does everything not directly related to primary life functions. As Frank is approaching Perl, something goes wrong. All the lights at his station go out. By the time Joel realizes that foul play is afoot, it’s too late. Someone storms in the room.

“Clayton, how did you get past security?!”

“Oh, I have my ways. Surrender control of Frank to me or accept the consequences.”

“You fool! We’re about to attempt contact with Perl, if you take over now…”

“Exactly. Mwahahaha!”

Clayton, Frank’s other personality, assumes control of Frank just as he approaches Perl. Within seconds Frank says something bizarre and inappropriate. Perl, confused and disgusted, runs back to her circle of friends with a new story to tell. Clayton escapes so he can seize control at an inappropriate moment another day. Joel eventually comes to and tries to perform some damage control by reminding Frank that there will be other chances, but Frank doesn’t care. In a week or so the feelings of defeat lessen, but not by much.

And that’s what makes life odd. You can be completely normal one second, but throw something in that upsets the balance and all hell breaks loose. Here’s what happened when I called up this one girl to try and get a date for a dance (Just in case she wanted to remain anonymous, I’m changing her name to “person.”)

Valentines Day, 7th Grade:

Me: Uhm, erh, hiya.

Person: Hi. Who is this?

Me: (Uh-oh. I wasn’t counting on this. Name, name, name, what the hell’s my name again?) Hey, you wouldn’t happen to have the math homework wouldja?

Person: Hold on, let me check.

Me: (Phew. Ok, think, think, think. Steve! Yes, it’s definitely Steve!)

Person: I think it’s 234 1-13.

Me: It’s Steve.

Person: Oh, hi Steve!

Me: So, would you like to go to the dance with me?

Person: No.

Me: OK then! Well, see ya.


For my first actual attempt at breaking in it actually went pretty well. Luckily, there were three Steves in the seventh grade, so when the person asked me if I had called the next day I said “Nope, why?”

That was the end of that. A full three years later I tried forcing someone to love me again. Of course, that ended quick. I would try to be funny around her, but I was too uncomfortable to actually make her laugh, and I ended up looking stupid. Not your average stupid, by any means. I had actually began to act Ludicrously Stupid, which is a level I never want to reach again unless I’m paid. I walked up to her and, aggh. It’s easier to document it:

Person: Hey Steve, what’s up?

Me: (Say something witty… c’mon… think…) Hey! It’s, uh, it’s you! Howya feeling on this fine Wednesday morning?

Person: It’s Monday.

Me: (Change the subject quickly) So it is! Well, anyway, how was your Christmas?

Person: I’m a Jehovah’s Witness.

Me: *nervous laughter* I knew I recognized you, did you visit my house last Thursday?

Person: What is so funny?

Me: Oh nothing, I was just thinking of what a pleasure it was to meet me. I mean you! I mean, oh, I’ve got to go pee-pee now, excuse me.

*sounds of running echo through the hallway*

There were a few more of those encounters, but they all follow the same patterns. I think I’ll skip straight to the ending. I told this person that I loved her, and she laughed. Either she thought I was joking, which is understandable, or there are sinister forces at work in her mind.

Well, I wrote this piece two years ago, and it seems that nothing has changed. I could read this piece all over again it would play out exactly the same.

And you know, I still really don’t mind much at all.