I think love is a much uglier thing than people realize. It’s gritty, messy, tiring, painful, stressful, and it’s real. It’s not a pretty thing when you get down to the real stuff. Love isn’t letting little things slide or doing little menial tasks to show that you care. I know I haven’t fully formed what love for me is, but it definitely isn’t that.
To me, and please feel free to disagree, doing little tasks or just rolling your eyes at a mistake is an expression of love, not love itself. Those expressions of love sugarcoat what true love is, like make up. Make up is used in place for the imperfections, it compensates. It covers up the scars and the uneven skin tones and the baggy eyes. It covers up the “ugly” (I use that term very lightly), and so does the expressions of love.
When you get down to it, love – real, gritty, ugly love – is working through the imperfections. The struggles. More times than most there are disagreements, fights, bickering. To me, that is love. You love someone enough to be so completely different in your opinions. It isn’t the Hollywood glamour of knowing exactly what to say in arguments to sum them up quickly and efficiently. It is saying exactly the wrong thing and still coming back to fix it.
The concept of love is complex and abstract. But it isn’t pretty. It isn’t charming. There won’t be very many Hollywood moments. Something will always go wrong, and that is ugly. So then why love?
It is like looking at the ugliest puppy ever and still falling head over heels for it. It is the imperfections of love that attract us to it. It is the ugly, the grit, the mess, the pain, the stress. Because with love, no matter how real it gets, it becomes twistingly beautiful.