Have you ever given real thought to the idea of what it means to love someone forever? As a victim of an overzealous pursuer in the past, I’m inclined to think of someone swearing to love me forever as a clear case of a Thought Crime with intent to commit Eternal Stalking. Even the people that I want to love me shouldn’t love me forever. Forever is more time than I’m willing to give to just one person. Seriously, I think I would love a vegetable longer.
Me: Is that broccoli? Someone Else: Why yes, it is. Me: Oh, I absolutely love broccoli! Someone Else: Have you always loved broccoli? Me: Yes. And I will keep on loving broccoli until the end of time!
See? I will always eat a piece of broccoli. Never will I turn up my nose and declare it incapable of meeting my needs. My love of broccoli is eternal! My love for another person? Maybe not quite so much.
The way I look at other people is a lot like how I look at my family; I love them, but only in small doses. I can’t stand a lot of fawning and petting of my person. I’m just not that affectionate by nature. For me to love someone long enough to marry them and spend the rest of this life with them is really the best I’ve got. Once I reach the light at the end of the tunnel, I’m out! Most likely I won’t be looking back lest I turn to salt or something. But I don’t want my existence to be forgotten. What a contradiction I am. Don’t love me for all eternity, but don’t forget that I was here. I think that is the epitaph that will be put on my headstone.
I’m not actually feeling my own mortality here, just contemplating the meaning of eternal love. It’s creepy. Once I’m gone, eat a bit of broccoli and remember me, then get on with the task of living your life.