When I was in seventh grade, I made a few friends. And by "friends," I mean school friends, the kind that you hang out with only at school. They were all in eighth grade, so we didn't even share classes together except for a choir class. We sat at lunch together every day, and that was pretty much it.
We bonded to the point where we bought each other Christmas gifts. I've always wondered if that really meant something. On the one hand, it's a big deal for me to spend money on people, and as we tend to see the world through our eyes, I almost always assume it's a big deal for someone to spend money on me as well. On the other hand, it was a private school, and most of these kids were rich, so maybe they just could spend the money, which makes me doubt the validity of the gifts.
Anyway ... on my way to class one day, I passed by one of the girls and we exchanged some words about a present she bought me, the details of which are lost in my memory. The one thing I do remember is that the conversation ended with me shouting, "I still love you though!"
See by then, I had picked up some of their vernacular, which included liberally telling each other "I love you" in the spirit of young philea love. Those relationships fizzled out pretty fast for reasons that are too convoluted to post here. But from then on, I was aware of the fact that some friends felt the freedom to express their love to each other.
That's when the cynicism started setting in. For good reason, I might add. We'd all like to think that love means forever. It's strong and lingering and unquenchable when nurtured. So when I said "I love you" to those temporary friends, did I really mean it? Did I love them at the moment? Or did I only think that because my ego was flattered?
These questions have followed me into my other friendships as well. Depending on the situation, I start thinking, "Okay, we've openly expressed that we love each other as friends. Then why do you not act like I'm your friend?" And then things change, and love either turns cold or the feelings of love turn out to be mirages--beautiful to see but impossible to feel.
This self-imposed cynicism, built in part by the dictates of the company I've kept, has lead me to keep the word "love" to myself and those I truly know I love. Of course, when it's not people, I'm okay using it. I do use the word to express my excitement for things/celebrities/hobbies I enjoy. I liberally say, "I love this song" or "I love this actor. He's the best." But when it comes to a person standing right in front of me--that's when I my love meter goes into hyperdrive.
Several times, would-be friends have told me they love me, and I freeze as several questions run through my head. Would it sound mean if I don't say "I love you too"? Do I just say, "Aw that's nice"? Why the heck is this person saying that? We never talk to each other. Not really anyway. I've tripped up and lied, feeling awkward and experiencing the burn of being disingenuous as I muttered "I love you too."
Thinking like this can be exhausting but worth it. But it can also take its toll on you when you realize that some people you said "I love you" to can turn their back on you just when you thought everything was going to be fine. Which, of course, makes you all the more cautious. Sure, I believe in opening up your heart to people, but you have to admit that little bit of cynicism can keep you from being hurt. At least it's worked for me. Sometimes.
So the enchantment is this: There are a few people you can believe when they say "I love you" and that's enough to make up for all the fakes.
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