Infect me. Really. Four years after my divorce, I am ready. Or am I? And why did I choose the word lovesick? Why not simply love? I’m not sure, I’m only certain I want the heart-pounding, stomach-swooping sickness that falling in love brings. I’m ignoring the other side of lovesick. The anxiety and uncertainty, the delirium and yes, obsession it brings.
Some days I’m not sure I want to handle more stress, good or bad. Other days the urge to be swept away, overwhelmed by something outside of myself is intense. Several things vex me about this burgeoning desire to be lovesick. What if I think I’m open to love but I’m not—I’m sending out stay away vibes without being aware of it? This is a distinct possibility. My capacity for deluding myself is infinitely reliable. My intuition is of no help here, it is blind to my own faults. Hopefully I’m sending those vibes to the men who would be wrong for me. Then again, I had a talent for choosing the wrong guy when I was younger. Maybe I haven’t lost that talent yet. I also tend to protect my heart. I know, don’t we all? I have raised this to a fine art, probably from the moment my birth mother gave me away. Sometimes I wonder if I’ve ever been completely open to intimacy. I’d like to think I have and am, but I wouldn’t swear on a Bible or anything (not that swearing on a Bible is reliable with an atheist, anyway).
What if the object of my desire is already in my life, and I am too blind to see it? See above. My talents are freakish and specific. I can tie cherry stems in my mouth. I can identify obscure pop songs. I know how to fold fitted sheets. My past history tells me I have had fabulous men in my life who I’ve pushed away, because they were way too together for me. I have changed, but who knows? Self-sabotage is also another of my talents. The corollary to this is what if the sickness isn’t reciprocated? That’s thinking awfully far ahead, but still…Strangely, this doesn’t freak me out as much as it would have in the past. I don’t have to have love. I want love. The difference is immense.
The last concerns all have to do with Lyme. What if I can’t handle love? This sounds ridiculous to the healthy, but to us chronically ill people, this is a real issue. Stress, good and bad, can trigger a shift. Being lovesick could translate into simply being sick. On the other hand, perhaps love helps the body and mind heal. Wouldn’t that be great? My yearning to be lovesick might be an intuitive quest for health. Kinda takes the romantic part out of it. Which brings up another issue: am I chasing after a high that is unrealistic? After all, that’s what I daydream about, walks in the park (preferably on a sunny, mild day), romantic dinners, slow dancing in the kitchen. not the reality of dirty socks and clashing needs. Sometimes I worry that this makes me more than a little silly, like I haven’t evolved much beyond seventh grade crushing. If only it were that easy. I’d get my friend to go to his friend with a note that has two checkboxes: do you a) like or b) don’t like Melissa? Fill out and give back to <fill in friend’s name here>.
Lyme also has given me a checkered resume. Who wants to take on someone who has health problems? In fact, on paper, I pretty much suck. I want someone to give me a chance, but would I give them a chance? I guess that depends on how lovesick I am. Also, (and for me this is gigantic), how judgmental is this person? It is surprising how many people I have met who do not understand what it means to be chronically ill. Those of us who have been lucky enough to experience the special gift of serious illness have usually learned far more than they wanted about themselves. We don’t judge. You never know what someone else is going through. I’m not sure I can be with someone who helpfully suggests that maybe I need to suck it up and then I’ll magically feel better. That man is not going to be too understanding the fourth of fifth time I need to go to bed for a few days.
Jeez, I might have talked myself out of wanting to be lovesick. It all seems like a lot of work, finding someone, getting to know them, falling in love with them, coexisting with them, being open to being hurt…nah…this is one bug I think I could happily live with.