Could have been more than a name on the door...

When C and I were driving home from the concert on Tuesday evening, she was telling me about how she and Redwing had been planning on taking things slow and easy, letting it build, but how their emotions had gotten away from them, and she told him she loved him.

She said he didn't return it immediately, which is something that bothered her (though since we talked about it, some months ago, not needing that intense love from your partner to validate your own feelings for them, that love is something you give without expectations of return) but due to earlier conversations, she dealt with it easily.

Apparently, it shocked him. It shocked him tremendously, and he spent the next day in a haze.

But he came back and told her that he loved her.

Now this, this I expect from him. He's immature, he's inexperienced with relationships, and he's prone to drama. He's also, what, 24? 23? 25? I don't know. One of those three.

But C... no. She's experienced. She's been in many relationships, some of them significantly long-term from what I gather. I know she's incredibly emotional, as volatile as I am mellow.

But to tell someone that you love them after dating them for a month? Really??

I watch them interact.

And I know that people have different definitions of love, different ideas to tell how people are in love with each other. Observations, theories, supersitions, whatever.

I don't think she loves him. She doesn't have respect for him at all. She bosses him around, insults him, and berates him. She treats him like her little brother. There's no moments of tenderness, no handholding, no stolen kisses, no compliments, looks of love, or gifts. He doesn't make her light up, when she speaks of him, it's usually with frustration or amusement. He doesn't blow her mind, he doesn't have any impact on her.

It's a friendly love. It's a family love.

It's not an in love.

And I don't know why it bothers me so much.

She's so emotional. She gives her love away and it just makes it seem so not special. It makes it seem like nothing. I thought love was supposed to be this grand thing, something that makes you glow, makes you incredibly happy. Something rare and treasured.

I've been in love. I've had "okay" love, and then I've had that one, heart-stopping, no-breathing love. That ultimate trust love. Perfect safety, perfect happiness, nothing-can-go-wrong love.

Life changing.

Funny, because it really was. I wouldn't be who I am now if it wasn't for him.

But this isn't about my experiences of love. We all experience it in our own ways.

I hate that it makes me look down on her.

Another woman, controlled by emotions and Hollywood-induced ideals.

Horrible, isn't it, that I am saying this about my friend?

Sometimes, I'll be with someone for a few weeks, a month maybe, and I'll be overwhelmed with that enthusiasm for this new partner. I don't know any of their flaws yet, they're treating me like a princess, we're learning about each other (but not how we don't quite fit right, or not those habits that will drive the both of us nuts), we're learning about how compatible we are and how similiar our goals are and I catch myself in the mirror with my cheeks flushed or my father looks at me and says, "You're seeing someone new, aren't you?" and I grin at him.

And I think to myself, "Am I falling in love? Maybe I am."

And then I think, "Oh, wake the hell up with your limerance induced infatuation. You don't even know this guy. You just know how he wants to be seen by you, you just know what he's like when he's trying to impress you. You don't actually know him. If you never saw him again, would your heart be broken? Would you be moping about for months? No. You'd be hurt for a week and then move on. So wake yourself up, get to know this guy, and see what happens. Don't be feeding some psycho-female hosebeast notion of emotional-bonding when there has been none."

Yes, I actually give myself variations of that speech whenever I find myself enamoured. Works like a charm.

It makes me look down on her because she loves so easily, and romantic love, for her, seems to be friendly love and I'm being a judgemental bitch.

I totally am.

I want to shake her and say, "C, wake up. You may love him, but you aren't in love with him. Look how you treat the guy!"

But who am I to be telling my friends whether or not they are in love? Who am I to make that call?

If Redwing disappeared from her life, she'd be sad for a day or two. A freaking day or two. That's not love. I don't even know what to call that.

Love wrecks you when it spoils.

This isn't love.

And last night, when I finally took a brain break and just relaxed, I decided to watch "Win a Date with Tad Hamilton" which is some mindless chick-flick that looked like I could shut my brain down with.

The main character goes out on a date with "Tad Hamilton", then goes out on a second one, and then her best girl friend asks her about him and she's like, "I'm in love with him!"

Imagine, dear readers, the expression on my face.

Jaw partially dropped, one eyebrow raised, lips curled in a disbelieving "What the hell?" expression.

Of course, in typical female fashion, in less than a week, she realizes that she's not in love with Tad Hamilton, but in her best male friend who has been in her life the entire freaking time, but she's never realized her love for him before.

Right.

I suppose she gets away with it because she's hot and blonde and expected to behave like a moron and not actually supposed to be aware of her own inner workings.

The movie had some amazingly funny lines. Like someone actually intelligent got their hands on the script and inserted the occasional quip. I appreciated that. The rest was an exercise in glorifying that ever-adored feminine stupidity.

And that's saying something, because usually I love these movies. I've seen freaking Hillary Duff's "Cinderella Story" at least fifteen times.

It makes me want to run out right now, meet some random guy, go out with him twice, tell him I love him, marry him right away (I think roofies will be involved), and then actually get to know him as a person and divorce him. Because it's so much more important to "follow your heart" as opposed to, you know, learning anything about your mate of choice before engaging in something as foolhardy as barely-thought-out marriage.

So, yes, Tuesday night was C telling me about how she loves Redwing, and Wednesday night was a movie telling me about how you can think yourself in love with someone in a matter of days, and then realize that your best friend (who was running freaking nice guy game on you) is actually the love of your life.

On the plus side, my brain stopped hurting so much as it slid into mush territory.

Oh, oh, and since C and Redwing were out, I got to discover something.

Redwing wants to be a writer. He's been writing and taking writing classes, seems like for some time now.

He left one of his several writing projects out on C's bed.

So I started reading it.

Sci-fi/Fantasy set in potentially modern times. I read the first page and determined it was just like every other book of its type that I had read. And it wasn't written that well. Wasn't horrible, wasn't good. Just another thing to add to your sci-fi collection.

Yes, I'm currently being full of hate and soy sauce.

That happens. Rarely. But it does happen.

He irritates me. His presence, his social persona that he puts on, his inexperience, his awkwardness, his apparent inability to keep his mouth shut, his constant need to be the center of attention, his emotional weakness, how he lets C boss him around, his smartass behavior that does not come off as charming or attractive at all. I don't want him around and it bothers me to no end that C's tossing "love" into the equation when she's known him for a month and has been dating him for like, two weeks. Maybe three.

I hope it is over soon. I was hoping that she'd find him as annoying as I do, and that she'd eject him. He does have good moments, where he is not trying to act out, where he is considerate and aware of the people around him, but it isn't often. He's so insecure in who he is that he constantly puts on these shows and postures, making everything to be more incredibly dramatic than need be and it's so childish. It's so girly.

But he's here.

I'm stuck with his presence.

I've already requested that he give C and myself more alone time.

I don't have patience for puppies. I have no interest in training him, like C does. I want them housebroken when I get them.

End rant.