I Loathe The L Word (On Hold)

One

Love.

Looked up in a dictionary; the only definitions that stand out are:

1) a profoundly tender; passionate affection for another person

2) a feeling of warm personal attachment or deep affection for a parent, child, or friend.

3) a person toward whom love is felt; a beloved person; sweetheart.

It makes me sick. In my opinion, the definition of LOVE is heartbreak. A nasty, cold heartbreak that kills your soul. Kills your inner beauty.

As you can tell, I hate- no, LOATHE- the word love. I'm seventeen, have had five meaningful relationships, and they all burst into flames and burned up in seconds. First up was David; brilliant, loving, had a good sense of humor. He was my first actual love. Five months in, he texted me in the middle of the afternoon.

David: babe.

Me: yep?

David: You known how you drop a glass plate and it breaks?

Me: uh...

David: I dropped a glass plate... toward you.

I had no idea what he meant by that. It was even more disappointing when I called him seconds later, giggling nervously. "David! What was that supposed to mean?"

He gave a long sigh. I could picture him running his hand through his hair. "I'm... breaking up with you."

Metaphorical plate? Meet my face. And my heart. And pretty much every caring bone in my body. "W-what? David..."

"Look, I'm sorry. My best friend Cassie came back from Europe and admitted she liked me. I liked her, too... Listen, it's not you. It's me."

HE DIDN'T! Did that jerk really just use that line on me!? Answer: he most definitely did. My response: "Good for you. Hope you get her pregnant, ya..." Bad word said, I hung up, fuming. Next thing you know, my wall had a hole the size of my fist in it and I broke my finger.

Boyfriend number two? He was Vincent. Handsome, better than David, punched David for me, and awesome. He was nicer than David when he broke up with me, after two months. Basically, he came to my house, told me upfront, then left me with a box of chocolates and a Titanic DVD. See? Nicer.

Boyfriend three? Broke up with me over the phone, drunk. Called me sober, then said he meant it.

Four? At my best friend Noëlle's birthday party, FOR MY BEST FRIEND. Noëlle and I are no longer talking because she said she seduced him into a more caring relationship. I'M CARING!

And, the most recent jackbutt, number five! Ferris... he was the lowest of the low. Six months after dating, I got a letter in the mail. You know what it said?? I'm breaking up with you?? Ha! No.

To Charlie,
I'm moving to Switzerland. Sorry. If I could, we would continue dating long distance. But at last, it is not. You are amazing.
From,
Ferris

Better yet, I saw Ferris doing his paper route a month later. I reacted calmly! Don't worry! I just threw my newspaper at him and watched it get caught in his bike spokes... where it made the bike tip. He only broke his nose, so it was fine!

I gave up having a significant other after that one. Slowly, though, my friends began getting boyfriends and girlfriends, and I was left standing. Blind dates were always thrown at me, I about stabbed the last person I went on one last. That was... a year ago? I have no idea. I was still the same Charlie, but just... less trusting. My temper got a tad worse toward the male gender, but not by much. They just had to avoid talking to me, breathing me near, standing by me, publicly asking me if I was a lesbian. On the last thing, I always said, "Les B Onest, I'm not the one wearing girl jeans on a guy figure."