Finding the right person to date, for me, tends to be a more...complicated affair than I ever like. See, fundamentally, even regardless of any other possible traits, there is always a particular trait that I want that, in essence, tends to be (what I feel is) a reflection of myself - I want complexity. Not in the most general sense but in that you near contradict yourself.

As both Laura and jess are a testament to, I tend to prefer someone with an incredibly engagable personality, most often articulated in a public personality that is often completely agreeable. In fact, it often borders on being mistaken for being simplistic and, by extension, stupid (which, really, makes far more sense than you might initially assume; if people were to look only at my sense of humor, I'm either the driest individual you may come by or, on the other side of the spectrum, a complete asshole who completely banks on shock value for any sort of reaction or poor sex jokes. Focus on one aspect of anyone and you miss the possible complexity of their personality. This is just more easy a crime to commit since the public personality is the one we see of a person most often and, for some, entirely).

However, you'd be a fool (and also a bit of an ass) to assume as much. Get to know the person and they're utterly intelligent, often troubled, very much self-aware (ironically, even if they themselves aren't aware of it), etc.

And it's often such specificity that screws me over. I need someone who's patient enough and able to push me enough to deal with my intense shyness. At the same time, I need someone shy enough to not be domineering and to allow me take a leading role as well.

I want someone who actually challenges me. If I can sum them up easily (and, with so many people, that isn't that difficult), there's a problem. Which, in and of itself, often implies constant contradiction. Passionate, yet able to be subdued when appropriate in certain situations. Have to be independent and able to stand on their own, yet not optimally happy that way so they need someone to lean on and get support from (hence a huge component on most relationships). Someone jaded enough to not be happy-go-lucky yet willing to believe there's more out there. Like I've said before here, I need a dreamer. I need someone who feels that utterly pull to chase something. If you're not looking forward, you'll clash heavily with my own personality.

 

And part of that is what I feel is a huge problem - I need someone, in a sense, who is troubled.

I have clinical depression, along with a..."pleasant" childhood. I have a taste for the warped. The dark and dreary is not something which will not forever be a component of my life. As I've said before here, I don't plan to - and probably couldn't - cut that out of my life.

I like more extreme things. While I often being incredibly straight-lace in almost anything, I can look at things with a fascinated impartiality (I told my cousin, off a random thought, yesterday to try reading Catcher In the Rye but with Holden having a sexual crush on Phoebe, largely to just gross out my cousin, but also because the perversity of such a reading actually being possible is intriguing, when you really think about it). And that impartiality, as well as a bit of my hyperbolic sense of humor, is partially how I approach the world.

I don't want to hold back.

And I don't want to necessarily fall into old conventions about things but would rather explore something and decide for myself what to think of it all.

I'm being far too vague but I couldn't put things into more specific a way without going into specific examples, at which point things would be so specified that we'd need many examples in order to cover everything I'm talking about in every different case they might show up as.

 

My point is - pain, suffering, disillusionment, fear, even anger, are all very human. And while I don't want to be yelled at, I do want to see all of those things. You cannot possibly be completely un-traumatized by some point in your life or even your present. Share that. It's a part of you. Plus to be devoid of such things is boring.

People are messy. People are not perfect and they're incapable of being packaged in these nice little boxes.

Do not try to shove yourself into one of them. Frustration can be endearing and it's not something I don't want to deal with.

While, yes, being happy and getting along and being enjoyable is nice, that's not all of who we are. And, I guess, what I'm trying to say...you're more interesting that way so why hide it? Why deal with it in private.

I want someone who's able to control themselves and yet can be a mess. I want fucking complexity. Be varied, be vast, be radiant.

Horst: I do. I love you. Isn't that silly?

 

...what are you doing?

Max [arranging the pile of rocks]: Arranging these. We've been sloppy. They could beat you for it.

 

Don't love me.

Horst: It's my secret.

Max: Don't love me.

Horst: It makes me happy.

 

And I have a signal. When I rub my left eyebrow at you, like this, it means, "I love you." I bet you didn't know that.

Max: Don't love me.

Horst: I can't help it.

Max: I don't want anyone to love me.

Horst: Too bad.

Max: I can't love anybody back.

Horst: Who's asking you to?

Max: Queers aren't meant to love - they don't want us to!

 

You don't love me, you don't love me...

 

This whole "sleeping" and "doing things on time" thing I need to get better at....

 

So, I was doing a quick update look on everyone before heading to bed and happened to be looking through some icons from http://ycant-heloveme.xanga.com/. As I was looking, I had one of those moments where you have a familiar feeling, often that was associated with something particular.

For whatever reason (okay, that's slightly stupid to say; most of the icons had, in some fashion, something to do with "love" but that it was this particular feeling that arose struck me by surprise), it was that feeling of being in a relationship you're eager to be in, that's important and dear to you, yet you really don't know how long it'll last, that apprehension and blatant chance.

It was weird. I guess the best way to explain is that I knew it'd take a while so I decided to put on something to listen to.

Largely due to my sister wanting it, I had recently gotten Michael Bublé's "Haven't Met You Yet". If you haven't heard it yet, it's this ridiculously upbeat and optimistic song. I know that my cousin seems to find my high critique of art these days as a strain of pretentiousness, but the song is optimism in the fashion that only Pop could mass produce. While undeniably catchy (and, I'm learning, rather impressive in terms of the instrumentation), it basically widdles down the pursuit for a mate to the notion that, in the end, everything will be okay because (unfailingly) the right person will come along in the end - he just hasn't met them yet.

So, I put this on for a little ear candy as I finish up my update checking. And almost immediately the mood was killed. 

Well, odd. I've used upbeat songs for browsing depressing icons late at night while feeling utterly awful to good use before. Why should it not work this time? The mood certainly wasn't a depressing one. It was ticklingly pleasant, actually.

So, I stop the song and go back over those icons, seeing if I can get back the feeling.

Well, yes, it was definitely a happy feeling, even if slitheringly so. It was one of hope, most definitely. That kind of impending apprehension, as I said before; like you know you're possibly entering something really fucking great, and you're eager to begin.

Yet there was something else there too. Like I said, apprehension. A hesitance, an almost fear.

As I said above, "you really don't know how long it'll last, that[...]blatant chance." And yet...

I wasn't turned off by this notion.

Which, really, was beyond odd to me. Loss, in most cases, is not considered a good thing by the sane-minded. Naturally, security in that you won't lose something tends to go with that.

It was in the way I was just reading the icons, really, that gives it away. Just look at that last icon, reread that first sentence as if you don't know what the answer will be. And yet the entire time you know that, hey, just possibly, it's likely the answer you want it to be.

And that high so drives you, despite you knowing it could decide to kick itself out from under you when it pleases. Against your instinctual judgement, you pursue after it.

But it's also that returned act. That feeling when they respond, when they actually respond to that request for a kiss, when you actually take that chance and it happens to work out as you wanted.

It's that concept of trust - and, shit, that someone actually cared enough to do as you trusted them to. It's an astounding feeling. And, really, far more accurate a one than "Haven't Met You Yet" gets at (I can only guess that this was the reason the mood dissipated as soon as I started playing the song). I've said this before in an adequate enough way, but I seem to find it important enough to repeat (or I wouldn't have bothered to write this post (admittedly, I nearly decided I didn't need to)): no, you have no guarantee that she or he will be magically waiting for you before the end; Hell, you have no guarantee that you'll even end up with someone you'll be happy with.

Again, I will strongly argue, the really cool and amazing and arresting (and terrifying and mind-fucking) thing about relationships is that concept that suddenly half of the control is just gone. It's not just you anymore – you have to rely on someone else's actions.

Now, of course, it's a little easier to look back fondly on this concept from the perspective of it working (i.e. these icons I've listed above). It's far less pleasant to speak kindly of this trust concept when it turns out that it didn't work, that the relationship is actually ending (whether in flames or calmly).

Yet it's really not fully avoidable. Any relationship you enter – it probably won't work out. You're almost amusingly naïve if you think otherwise. And, to be frank, you're childish if you think that every break up will absolutely be their fault; only my mother seems to find that the actual act of breaking up is a crime. People are allowed not to like you.

And yet – I like that feeling. For all its risks, it's likelihoods of falling through – there's absolutely something about taking that risk on someone, of actually feeling like such a myriad of possibilities as a successful relationship might possibly work out for you. It's that, "Hey, they returned my affection –they're interested in me," surprised fuzziness.

To be honest, it's far more satisfying a feeling than the notion that someone is out there who is right for you, you've just got to wait along enough.

Sure, I've got more at stake – but, like I've said many many times before (and probably will many many times throughout the rest of my life), the personality is so fascinating a thing. And the emotions and complexity of the human is all too endearing. Resting that trust in someone and all the many many things that means and the many many things that goes with that risk – I'd much rather have that.

I want to dance, at some point in the future, with someone to Frankie by Bruce Springsteen (a live version can be found as the 7ᵗʰ song on the music player at the bottom of the page; not as smooth as the first version, but it'll do).

Don't need anyone else around, or can just be in one of each others rooms, for all I care. I want to just goof off with them, slowly sway with them, pull them close just to whisper into their ear

Walk softly tonight, little stranger…
Into the shadows where lovers go
Talk softly to me…little angel
Whisper your secrets…so soft and low
Walk softly tonight, little stranger
Into the shadows where the lovers go
Talk softly to me, little angel
Whisper your secrets so soft and low…
Talk softly tonight, little angel…
Here in the shadows where…lovers go
Talk softly to me, little stranger
Whisper your secrets, baby, soft and low
Talk softly to me…
Talk softly to me…
Talk softly to me…
Talk softly to me…

until the voice goes hoarse or the words just fade away. I just want that moment.

 

 

Dark weekends in the sun, out on Chelsea Row
Descending the stairs, ah, Frankie my love[…]
We'll dance round this dirty town
'Til the night is all done

Let all the finer things sleep alone tonight
Let all the minor kings – lose – their – thrones – tonight

Don't worry about me baby, I'll be alright…
-Bruce Springsteen

I think I'm most definitely falling in love with this movie.

(note: Åmål is a small town in Sweden)

I find it interesting these days when I talk to others about relationships and what they hope for in love. This is largely because how I understand the concept has very radically changed from simply half a year or a year ago.

It’s interesting to see, almost, the way that these concepts of a relationship are continually painted as being very easy, natural, and almost as if expected.

“You can all fall in love; it just is a matter of time.”

Or my favorite is the one where the two walk past each other and just happen to be struck by this realization. It’s nice, and it’s sweet, it really is (my voice is actually not supposed to be heavily sarcastic right now like it usually tends to be).

But you go through enough relationships and you realize it really isn’t like that. Actually, they’re just at the surface and there’s a depth more to look through.

Hmm, how can I properly get these thoughts across? I suppose it’s the difference from entering a relationship thinking of an end and then entering a relationship knowing it probably won’t work out. Heh, it sounds somewhat downing yet that’s the fact of the matter. The point of dating is for enjoying the moments that happen. As I’ve said previously, my past exes do share an importance and a lot of that does lie it the memories they’ve given me and the lessons they’ve taught me. There are people I adore because of what I’ve learned about them during that time of higher intimacy.

But it probably won’t last. Usually won’t. And you’ve got to understand that. In all brutal honesty, I expect that I won’t end up with anyone in the end. And I’m alright with that. Not everything ideal in life works out. As soon as I get capable of supporting myself and others firmly with no fear of otherwise, if not involved with anyone else, I’m going to adopt. I’m not going to slow my life around this.

Now, of course, this is a worst case scenario. To what degree things lean in that direction regardless, it’s the point you realize that the past moments and connections were very much worth it and understanding that clinging and expecting all payout from the Goal and final ending is unrealistic.

The other aspect is knowing what to expect in a relationship and from the person. When we’re young, we have basic expectations. Generally, they’re very, very minimal. As things go on, they may get slightly more specific. They need to be gentle, caring, smart, etc. etc.

But we don’t think about the little things in the relationship.
     Are things awkward when you’re with zir (gender-neutral pronoun; think “him or her”) or do they flow in a way that’s satisfying for both people?
     Do the cons outweigh or are totally not bothering to us or do the pros outweigh (we’re so used to thinking ze’ll be so perfect there will be nothing which you dislike. Hehe…think again)?
     Can ze support you? Meaning, is ze enough to keep you sustained or are you left wanting more, feeling like something’s missing?
     Better yet, can you recognize when it’s that you’re missing something and when it’s simply that you’re being naïve or expecting more than ze can give you or than you ought to expect realistically?

The common theme between all of the above? They’re gray areas. And they’ve all been even simplified here. They’re far more complex, individual, and dependent on specific situations that I cannot begin to even think of them all. Further, I’ve only listed 5, which is a far lower amount of those gray areas than there are.

A relationship – while I largely do still believe, and will continue to argue, that a relationship is very much flowers and compliments and cute gifts – is the nitty gritty. It’s “Does this bother you?” It’s making sure you’re able to properly articulate what bothers you to the other person (which is a lot harder than you’d think) and both of you being able to handle it. It’s making sure you’re open to each other and making sure you both work to making the relationship work. It’s the boring little details that are more than just gazing at each other lovingly or teasing and laughing with each other.

Again, I stress, those things are not unimportant – rather, they’re as important as the other stuff I’ve added. But you must have both in must, must deal with both, when dealing with a relationship.

And when you’ve realized this – well, I find that this difficult, irritating, tiresome and energy draining, time consuming, complex ordeal is all the more astounding. It’s all the more worthwhile. Hats off to those who manage to make it work, because it’s quite a daunting task which I’m not even sure I’ll ever accomplish.

Suddenly that person is all the more dynamic. Suddenly that the two of you work is more puzzling, more thankful and enjoyable. Alright, I think that’s enough of abstracts that are failing to get across what I’m trying to say anyway (hence why the list of them). I can’t really get at what it’s like.

But it’s that weird moment when you aren’t actually bothered by the difficulty or that the odds are stacked against you. I don’t look at relationship with this expectation to “succeed” anymore – I just want a glimpse of the person I’m involved with (and, hopefully, to have that develop even further and further into a solid friendship) and to have no regrets come that crash. If things are gonna burn out in flames, I want those flames to be so fierce and bright that those at a distance are taken in awe. Let me get wasted out and remind me that I’m alive, that I feel – that it all actually meant something, that’s why it hurts so damn bad.

Now, obviously, that’s not the ideal ending. Ideally, if things do end, they should end on a peaceful note. But don’t just waste it. Don’t mourne because it ended, or maybe unhappy because it wasn’t more, that it didn’t end up being love but just maybe two weeks – appreciate that nonetheless. It meant something, does mean something.

A friend asked me what I wanted in a companion. I responded:

And, in light of this, I understand that, really, so simplistic of wanting for a relationship and in a person is difficult to acheive. But that’s what makes it so damn amazing. That really doesn't explain it. But I'm starting to think that in order to understand, you've just got to witness it yourself.

A related video. If only all pop stuff this complex and non-simplistic (or formulaic) – basically, intelligent – and I might not actually hate the stuff so much then.

And, because who doesn't need a bit of Scrubs all the time?

What is your definition of love?
Simply, love is an intense infatuation unrivaled by most others towards another person of the human race.

Specifically, it's gifts and compliments often given solely for the joyed reaction of the other person. It's getting nervous when around them, the sudden twist in your gut or the quickened heartbeat at the mention of their name alone, an inability to drive them from your mind nearly every day, and probably every other cliché you might have heard about it in your lifetime.

Often people say that it's the person who is perfectly for you, the single person who was meant for you, etc. That, however, is harshly naïve. While I've solely described the emotional/physical effects of love, it's wholly based on the character, likes, beliefs, and experiences of the other person. Even if you don't agree with all of those, you accept all of them. If that's the case, is it so impossible to think there's someone out there in this vast world with the right enough attributes for you to fall in love with them? My guess is, in the whole world, there is at least 5 people with whom they could fall in love.

Your love is not necessarily the most compatible person to you, in part, because life just doesn't work that way. The likelihood of meeting a person who is most compatible and workable with is quite low. And, yet, there's probably at least 5 other people right off the bat out there more compatible with you. Further, even if not the most compatible, it doesn't dimish the individual's love for the other person.

No, love is the person whom you can fall head over heels for. Maybe not the most compatible yet the aspect that people seem to forget the most for relationships is Work (yeah, yeah, I know, I've said it a million times already). They're the person who, when you're with them, you don't want anyone else, more-compatible or otherwise; they're enough.

I just answered this Featured Question; you can answer it too!

Well, I've dived back into xkcd comics. Never heard of them (xkcd.com)?

I must thank Katie Holbrook sometime entirely for showing me this splendid internet strip.

I remember reading an article about Bill Waters (author of Calvin and Hobbs) and they had noted how some critics picked up on the fact that Waters can actually draw. Technically, so can this guy, but you have to admire his unneed to.

The catch phrase of the website is A Webcomic of Romance, Sarcasm, Math, and Language. This is so true. One thing I really like about the site is that it totally plays to intellectuals and geeks.

A lot.

I, personally, am in total love with that last one. The comic also tends to focus on some stuff which, I think, our generation relates to far more.

I have to say, I do love the artistic variation on a familiar theme in the above one. But one of the best things about this comic is that it can go from an odd hybrid of intellectual and inane humor (that only it could pull off),

to a seriousness that seems almost out of place. As the catch phrase says, romance is in the equation. And plenty of it. All too often, the drawer offers (in a idealistic, hopeful fashion) love as the only solutions to our problems sometimes. In one comic, as two men start to ponder questions and their speech spills out, filling the page, the strip collapses upon itself, all sense of boxes and coherance lost in a mess of words and lines. Then, out of it emerges half-boxes with two people in them. They hold hands and walk off, amid the reckage on the page. At times the strip does nothing more than point out subtle IFs and MAYBEs and, in an almost surreal way, demonstrates itself as incredibly poignant.


The caption on the site was, "This one makes me wince everytime I think about it." Other times, it infuses its humor with the notes on romance.

Some happen to be straight serious.

It's odd because the picture shows nothing we haven't been told before. The artwork is drawn in stick figures. Yet I find the faceless characters to stand for something and the scene no less gripping than it needs to be. I dunno, it strikes home for me.

Otherwise, though, xkcd is just plain fun:

So many awesome references for an Epic Win.

That one will be my favorite forever.

 

Anyway, that was incredibly long and large, but I felt it needed to be said. If you read all of the strips, congrats. I think it's a good comic with a lot of subtle art.

 

On a completely unrelated note, check this out: http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.matthewgood.org%2F2009%2F04%2Fand-then-beauty-showed-up%2F&h=b8c38379fb5dcf691c924d5637043670. Kaz showed it to me. It speaks for itself. Watch the vid in the link!

      Another thing that used to rile me but which I afterwards enjoyed was his complete indifference and, almost, disdain for my appearance. Never, either by word or look, was there a hint that he thought me pretty: on the contrary, he would make a wry face and laugh when people complimented me on my looks in front of him. He took a positive pleasure in picking out my defects and teasing me about them. The fashionable clothes in which Katya liked to dress me up and the way she did my hair for festive occasions only provoked his mockery, mortifying the kind-hearted Katya and at first disconcerting me. Katya, having made up her mind that he admired me, was quite unable to understand his not liking to see the woman he admired shown off to the best advantage. But I quickly came to see what was behind it. He wanted to be sure that I was devoid of vanity.[...]My hair, my hands, my face, my ways - whether good or bad, it seemed to me he had appraised them all at a glance and knew them so well that I could add nothing to them[...]. I felt that from whatever angle he saw me, whether sitting or standing, with my hair up or down, all of me was known to him and, I fancied, satisfied him. If, contrary to his practice, he had suddenly told me, as other people did, that I was beautiful, I believe I should have been anything but pleased. But, on the other hand, how happy and light-hearted I would feel when, after something I had said, he would gaze at me intently and say in a voice charged with emotion which he would try to hide with a humorous note:
      "Yes, oh yes, there is something about you. You're a fine girl, that I must admit."
-Happy Ever After, Leo Tolstoy, pages 25-26

I'll readily admit, for those that know me, opening as I just have is no surprise. I ought to probably note that there's more going on in that passage and I took what I needed and liked from it (though that often does happen when you take but a piece from a larger work). It's a disheartening piece, for they go from a practically idyllic love to something I would regard as settling; yet I know what Tolstoy meant to say with it. In any case, I suppose I ought to get to the point of this entry sometime soon...

We (myself, siblings, and mother) were sitting in the car before a doctor's appointment and the conversation came about to when my parents first dated. I believed this happened because it was prefaced by me and my brother noting she wasn't a virgin her wedding night (partly to point at the hypocrisy of her abstinence only stance - though, as most know, I'm very pro-abstinence while my brother is on the fence since last I talked to him - and also to bother her since we have no issue of talking about sex while, for her, it depends on her mood and situation; more than often, it's amusing uncomfortability). So, she notes that the first time she met my dad was at Market Fax (crudely referred to as Market Fags due to the amount of Queer people that often worked there); she, of course, doesn't bother to mention the FTM transsexual who happen to set them up together (honestly, for a straight couple, my parents had the gayest adolescence when they dated; I should have a post dedicated to when they went out sometime).

We ventured into what is essentially the same stories we've heard a million times before, though I enjoyed hearing them anyway. Stuff like the first time my dad tried to pick my mom up for a date and how she thought he had a cute butt when they worked at Market Fax. Of course, I can't help but note that the cute butt line comes at the expense of her now current (continual) detractions of his appearance now (as if he could magically hold back the pressings of time all on his own) or the detractions she levies towards my siblings and myself. However, I enjoy these stories because they give some color or background to these people who I've had to basically sever as well as I can from my life. Talking the past (i.e. before I was born) was always something rarely done so that I don't know much of my ancestors or my parents' life before hand. And, for someone who obsesses about the past and loves history as much as myself, this is a travesty. More so, though, I think I like to think there was a time when they were in love.

Of course, that sentence implies they aren't in love now. Which I think could be accurate enough of a statement. Or at least not a healthy love. Their communication is terrible. They constantly insult each other (and then wonder why the other ones gets pissed off). They're fantastically selfish (which is an obvious no-no in a relationship). And they aren't there for each other anymore. I mean, of course, I'm talking from an outside view; and while they've told me their own woes about the other from their very own mouths (and I stumbled across a few journal writings of my dad's on accident one time), for the most part I am speaking from an outside view. I readily admit this. Yet they don't even seem interested in each other. Being young and hopeful and, possibly, naïve, I have very idylic perfect ideas of love. Given that, I'm will to argue (from my very unexperienced viewpoint) that there is merit to them and no reason to believe they can't exist or happen. So I lament dearly at the fact my parents never seem to really talk beyond the day to day stuff. They own interactions are built on the jobs they have to do for the day. I rarely see them (even when they're unaware I'm viewing them) interact in a way outside of what chore needs to be done. Even their kiss when they see each other is done as if it's another thing in the schedule. And their laments never end....

And so I'm reminded of Junior year. I believe we were talking about the relationship I had at the time and we happen to come to trust. I'll admit, rather assuredly, I said that I'd trust Victoria (Mendez) with my life, to which my mother objects with the style of one sympathetically correcting one she knows to be inexperienced (I've said this story before, if it's sounding familiar). She then proceeds to tell me that she rarely trusts anyone. She specifically says she doesn't trust my sister to sleep over my uncle's house for fear he may touch her (out of the ordinary, that is to say). She even (I almost want to say boasts) didn't trust my father for the first few years after they were married (and she wonders why I object to dating a total of 2 years (or less) only before marrying). Now, I understand worrying about making poor choices on the behalf of others for fear of failing them. How do you possibly look at yourself again after essentially sending your daughter to rape (though I can't imagine distrusting my brother that badly; might say something about her childhood and their relationship)? 

But for myself? I've suffered too much to put myself through more. Yes, you might hurt yourself - you can hurt yourself in many ways. But to live a life of isolation such as hers? You never hurt but you can see what the results are - a marriage which is empty and soulless. I've only loved once but (all relationships included) I could tell you exactly what caught my eye about the girls worth remembering. And I'll admit, while not every person I've dated was exactly "utterly rapturing and fascinating" (or exactly worth remembering...), those of real worth not only are remembered but make a "physical" mark in my own development. As I've said somewhere on here before, a relationship should ideally (particularly if it doesn't succeed) create a far more strong bond between the two people and a deeper appreciation for each other (which I'm not properly describing right now, nor seem to be able to). And, no, that's not love. If my actual assumptions of love are correct, they're a shadow of what it is. But it is and should be related to it. You don't get even the slivers of love if you don't open yourself to it. And, yes, that means many possibilities of things which you probably don't want. But that's life. To be honest, I think there's only two people in this world I trust wholly and fully without a doubt (at this point in my life). But to shut the door with a, "Well, that's all that's probably possible in this lifetime," may be one of the biggest mistakes I could make.

Ay, what point was I making.... I guess I was just waxing over the idea of Love in general (though particularly in relation to my parents). Thinking about it now, there's probably too much (or a good deal I've said before) which I wouldn't even know how to get into from this frame point. Yeah, I think I've said my thoughts on love before rather well in the past, right?