Who, being loved, is poor?

Who indeed.  And who was it who said this?  Why, the inimitable Mr Wilde of course, and as always; he was completely right.  Except not about actual poor people, with or without love they are really, as in the dictionary definition; poor.  No amount of trying to beam amour from your eyes intensely into the hearts of your paramour will make you feel good, if you are starving hungry and there’s only one tin of beans left in the house, to feed you both for a week.

deadcupid

oh no, Cupid’s dead! Whatever will we do?

Love schmove.  It is not solely the reserve of the young, hopelessly enamoured, gracelessy sucking the life out of each other on the metro, or gazing deeply into each other’s souls (blind to the sights and sounds around them, namely: heavy traffic, other couples’ slurping noises, the roar of police sirens and falling scaffolding).  No, there’s a little bit of love out there for all of us.  It just might arrive in not totally expected form.  The cute French bulldog sniffing at your ankle, deciding to pee or not – it loves you, the child looking at you quizzically from it’s buggy, deciding to cry or not – it loves you, the man with the binoculars on the balcony, across the way, deciding to hide or not – he most definitely loves you.  It’s all love, in some way shape or form.

Call me an old cynic, (and I know you will) but it seems to me now that all holidays, more or less without exception, are money spinners – case in point, Christmas starts in September, Valentine’s Day starts on the first day of January, every four years, leap year comes around and starts more or less the same time (so that’s confusing.  Does she buy him a card and a cuddly toy, or get down on one knee while choosing a romantic meal-deal-for-two in Marksies?)  Which reminds me, I better start thinking about who to propose to…….. decisions, decisions.   Easter is already in the shops etc. etc.  It’s a treadmill of faux, chocolate-covered affection.

Everyone’s in on it.  Everywhere you look now, there’ll be advice until the big day itself, on where to go, what to wear, what to eat and buy and do, in order to show the object of your affection just exactly how much they mean to you.  The pressure is immense to get it just right.  What will Kanye buy Kim?  Before I even know what it is, I know I want one just like it!  It’s simply not enough to say, “LOOK!  I Facebook stalked you for five whole hours when we first met, looked at my mobile for a message from you 1,313 times between 0730 and 1210 the morning after our first date, liked a photograph on Instagram anonymously, and the only reason I didn’t look you up on LinkedIn, is because you can see who’s checked out your profile there.  (I’m not stupid).  What more do you need exactly?”  That, as I understand it, is the modern way.  No?

So, here’s a thing, why not put your arms around your other half, and say, “Love you, you pain in the arse”, (old softy, I know), when you feel it.  Find them when you come in from work and give ’em a little kiss.  Which is not so difficult, considering in these tough times, we probably all live in flats no bigger than a shoebox – they’re in there somewhere not too far away.  Call your family, see your mates.  It’s all positive stuff that nurtures the soul, it doesn’t have to be connected to ‘The One‘, and if you haven’t found ‘The One‘, shame on you – you poor, poor thing, whatever will you do?  And we’re right back where we started, with dear old Oscar.

So, with the special day of love fast approaching, and the pressure mounting, and Cupid bloody knackered from all the overtime, I leave you with this:

annoy shit

From me to you, with love……… x

 

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2 thoughts on “Who, being loved, is poor?

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