Early & Alone #47: Love Without Romance
This year, my Valentine’s Day was quiet. It usually is, being single, but this year, it was quiet even in my head. I didn’t worry about all of the noise of Valentine’s Day, the schmaltzy jewelry commercials and ads for chocolate and flower delivery. I didn’t even mind the Instagram posts of couples celebrating their relationships--most of them were sweet and genuine and I’m happy for people in healthy, fulfilling partnerships. A few years ago, all of these things cut. All of these things added up to a chorus in my head, telling me I wasn’t good enough for love and Valentine’s Day was for the attractive people who had it together and deserved romance. But now I know better.
I know love and romance are not the same thing. You can have one without the other. If you’re lucky, you have love without the romance, not romance without the love. I have love without the romance, and I am grateful. This year, I got cards and treats and gifts from friends and family that made me feel loved and seen. I watched a silly movie (Barb and Star Go to Vista del Mar) over Amazon Watch Party with a friend for Galentine’s Day, drinking wine from a fun tumbler she’d sent me. My mom baked me a heart-shaped cake with pink frosting and cherries on top, and my sister delivered a box of treats from a new bakery. Another friend dropped off some wine and candy. I got a sweet FaceTime call from a friend and her son. These were all thoughtful and sweet (literally) gestures without the schlock of romance--that glitter and sparkle that we’re all trained to believe is the most important part of life, that we’ll die without it. But really, it’s love we need, and love can be as simple as calling a friend just to say hi, as picking up an extra bottle of wine, as watching a silly movie together.
Romance can be fun--I’ve had it. But it’s hollow without love, can ring and echo so loudly that you think you’re missing the romance when it’s gone, but what you don’t realize is that it was never real to begin with. Over time, though, the ringing goes away, and you can hear yourself think again. It’s a relief.
I spent most of Valentine’s Day working, nothing sexy or exciting. I’d taken Gizmo to the vet to get updates on his vaccines the day before so hadn’t really thought much of the fact that his tummy seemed a little upset through the day. But he started shaking that night, before bed, and moving very slowly, cautiously, like he was deeply afraid. I stayed up with him and took him outside when he needed to go, becoming more and more alarmed as he got more and more sick. Neither of us slept that night, as I frantically Googled various symptoms and called the emergency vet, who didn’t sound too concerned that my tiny creature was both vomiting and pooping blood (sorry).
Dogs get sick. I know this. This isn’t my first rodeo. But it is my first time as a single dog caretaker, and it dawned on me, the immensity of my responsibility. I had to decide if I was going to pack him in the car and drive 30 minutes to the emergency vet where I was told there was quite a wait, or keep him in his nest of blankets, petting him and singing to him. I opted for the latter, and called my regular vet first thing in the morning when they opened. I took him in for the first available appointment, he was given meds and fluids, and his bloodwork came back all normal. I breathed a sigh of relief.
I’d just finished reading Kelly Conaboy’s The Particulars of Peter on Friday night and it was such a delight of a read. The author falls in love with her foster dog, Peter Parker, and adopts him, subsequently falling more and more in love with him. The book is an exploration of her relationship with Peter, and all of the weird things we do for our dogs, and it is funny and sweet and interesting. I think a lot about the love I have for Gizmo, how strange it is that he cannot speak but I somehow feel like I know him. I worry that I’m not doing enough for him, that I’m not providing him with the kind of life he should have. Rationally, I know that of course I am. Sure, he could go for longer walks or have a fenced yard to play in or get fed premium food, the kind you keep in the fridge. I could spend more time playing with him. But all in all, this pup’s got a pretty good life. He’s pretty much the center of my tiny world. We both like it that way.
So as I took care of this tiny creature, cleaning up his mess and cooing to him, trying to soothe him, I was again reminded of how simple and inconvenient and messy love without romance can be. I think, ultimately, that’s why we love our pets so much. They give our lives more purpose. We have a creature to love, who loves us back, without the romance, and with quite a bit of mess and expense and inconvenience, but also without question or restrictions. It’s all worth it.