L-O-V-E: I’m Real Talking About the Thing that Makes Us Either Want to Sing or Puke. Or Both.

You guys know by now that I’m the sort of person who goes around whining about third-wheeling and lecturing anyone who will listen about my life philosophy about love: “love is patient, love is kind, love will kick you right in the behind” or to put it more simply, “love is all a chemical reaction in the brain”.

You should also know now, that I only truly believe that when things go to shit in my own life. This is extremely hard for me to admit, but I believe in love. There, I said it. Go mark it on your calendar.

I believe in the he kind of love that old people have for one another after looks fade and years usher in their 60th wedding anniversaries, the love like in that one movie where the kid stands outside that chick’s window with the boom box playing that 80’s song, the sort of thing that happens in Rom-Coms (girl in big city meets boy, they date, he/she screws something up, he/she gets pissed, they make up, cue couple banging as camera pans out showing big city skyline) even though I mostly hate them.

Ugh. I wanna punch myself in the face right now for saying that and go back to having a faux thick skin about it and tweet, “guys just want 2 bang” or something on Twitter that condemns men for being promiscuous shitheads.

But like many of you guys, I’ve been hurt by liking (and fiiiiine, okay even “loving”) someone and want to make it seem like it was all fake when it happened to protect myself. Who hasn’t gotten rejected before? That is life, my friends. It hurts every time, but you end up picking yourself up, brushing off the pain, and you try again. If you have gotten and kept every single person you’ve ever loved, then dude, screw you. You’ve never had the pleasure of crying into a tub of Ben and Jerry’s or having a one night stand rebound with that old ex-Playboy bunny who walks around State Street (shoutouuuuut!).

All this mushy/barfy talk leads me to this blog post. This is uncomfortable for me to write. And not just because I am name dropping the crushes I wrote in my locked diary in middle school. I like to pretend that I can only Love with a capital “L” things like quesadillas from TBell or the McChicken, but at the end of the day I secretly wish I had the balls to pin wedding dresses on Pinterest or let myself think I deserve to be happy with someone. But I like to play it cool. I’d rather joke around about it and be the “cool girl” or “bro” who isn’t interested in anything love related because I’m under the delusion that it makes you seem weak.

So K Hovs, where in the hell is this post going today???

Essentially, I recently visited my sister at Binghamton University this weekend and had some time to reflect on stuff. I’m a chronic over-thinker, so that part was easy. But that’s what this post is about- love. What it has meant to me at different stages of life and where I think I am now. Unfortunately, this isn’t too inspirational of a post. I won’t promise to try dating someone once every week, be married by 26, or whatever it is that I promise I’ll do in each post.

This is my opinion, and this blog is my medium of talking my problems out. Readers beware ❤ . This is nearly everything I thought about while nursing a gin on the couch at a party, sitting on the airplane waiting for Packer/KC game updates, and while Grand Theft Auto V-ing my way through Milwaukee while driving home.

* * *

It’s nuts when you think about your first crushes up to the present day- post college, in my case. I’m super fortunate that I was a creative (or weird, honestly- creative is just an artsy way of saying weird) and I kept a diary from 7th grade until patchy entries through my freshman year in high school. The diary entries mostly involved me stereotypically writing my crushes’ names alongside mine and documenting the times we walked past each other in the hallways taking note of when we made eye contact (maybe one time out of three years, five crushes, and two schools. I’m not gifted at math but I can tell you those percentages aren’t lookin’ too hot).

But for some background, let me take you on a quick journey through my perception of relationships. No need to buckle up, it’s a quick trip.

In 7th and 8th grade, I seemed to value looks above all and went for anyone who I’m sure Hitler would’ve chosen to represent his regime to be honest (light brunette/blonde hair, light eyes, a particular interest in conquering early 20th century Europe, you know, that stuff). Most importantly, they were all pretty much younger than me and on my brother’s soccer teams. Between the years of 2004-2007 I probably attended 90% of my brothers games and tournaments and later lost 99% of my dignity when the goalie of my brother’s team first talked to me (after I liked him for “287 dayyyys ❤ “) and I quote, said, “oh, are you Logan’s little sister?”

I don’t do percentages, like I said, but I am 100% sure after that I stopped liking him because I was so shocked he didn’t notice me staring at him during all those games I went to (for those of you who don’t know, I am Logan’s older sister, Alli is our younger sister).

Here's me nearing middle school age.

Here’s me nearing middle school age. And nearing the peak of my weird stage. 

Long story short, the infantile stages of catching dem feelz involved a whooooole lot of nothing for me. I just didn’t understand why when I looked at Mason, Alex, Kyle, and whatshisface in the halls why they didn’t just fall in love with me already. Thus began my long road to who I am today- me not doing shit when it comes to someone I like. Turns out staring at them doesn’t make them wanna marry my ass- it just makes them think I believe they have some ketchup on their face. Watch out boys. If I like you, I’ll blink twice in your general direction and expect you to interpret that as true love. I wasn’t too upset over the unrequited love, however. Me and my 14-year-old self rebounded miraculously and holed up in the basement to play Barbie Horse Adventures where I’d pretend to gallop around like a horse while the game loaded.

I evolved a little in high school, though. Like from Charmander to Charmeleon, maybe. Don’t you worry.

So it turns out I was a huge weirdo also for at leeeeast the first two years of high school. That shouldn’t surprise you given my love of PS2, GameBoy Color, Pokemon, and my obsession with drawing cartoon strips of a beaver I made up called “Beever”. I didn’t have any particular crushes on anyone, mostly due to the fact that I was so busy with volleyball on weekdays and talking to random (most likely) 65 year olds on AIM who weirdly asked me an awful lot what I was wearing (a t-shirt with a zebra on it tucked into some high waisted Diadora soccer shorts, duh). They never replied after that, usually.

But anyway, I was living the dream with my braces on and trying to fit in by wearing size 4 long Hollister jeans and a tight shirt that honestly made me fart really bad during the day because I spent a majority of my time sucking it in. Ayyyyyyy. I was a hit with boys.

My early high school experience can be explained and summed up through one simple anecdote. My freshman year I had a huge zit in the middle of my forehead and I picked it so bad that I was largely noticeable. I went around and told people that I had been shoveling snow and accidentally hit myself in the face. No one believed me. And no one dated me.

My perception of what I thought love was changed slightly in high school than what it had been in middle school (think puppy love to like, maybe…dog love???) but I didn’t really change until my last two years wherein I experienced the “I was the crazy ex” type deal. I was obsessed with who I was with and couldn’t be without them. I accused them of cheating. I caused them to barely have any friends their age. I done fucked up, guys.

Looking back, I clearly realize that my perception then was off. I was off. As you may know, that’s when I was going through the beginning stages of going off the deep end and my thoughts were psychotic. I obsessed over plans for getting married, over kids, over everything an 18-year-old shouldn’t be worrying about unless they’re marrying their cousin in rural Idaho. High school is a time of incredible changes before college. I’d bet many of you changed from senior year high school to college. Plans change, feelings change, long distance gets hard and tests your relationship out. Why settle for your significant other when you can have the instant gratification of flirting hard with someone else who may mean absolutely nothing to you? Talking to new people and living in the moment is exciting- some people never get out of this stage. That’s what some people want, and that’s fine.

So now that I’ve made the trip back out to where I went to school after graduation and feel somewhat removed from this culture, I can see more so of what I want from love.

In my situation, I’m not going for the “fun” “let’s see where this goes” type of deal. I don’t think I really ever had in college- I’m in for the long haul because for me, going through those stages is mentally exhausting for me. That’s who I am. I’m not better or worse than anyone for thinking like that, I’d like to note. I’ve figured out I most likely feel this way in part because of those adults in relationships around me. They’ve shown me what love means to them, and in turn, I’ve taken what I’ve learned from them and formed my own opinions.

WARNING: I’M BOUT TO GET ALL CHEESEY ON YA ASS. If you are in college or high school reading this and are just looking to have fun in a relationship, just skip this. Honestly, I’m doing you a favor here because I’m coming from a point of view where I never went through that stage or had a desire to. So you will most likely disagree with this. And I promise I’m not judging. I’ve had many friends go through the “fun” stage and have reaped the benefits of having an automatic, fun friend. It’s pretty dope. But anyway onto my opinion because I am a philosopher (jk)…

I’ve spent my whole life watching my parents and seeing how truly beautiful their love for each other is (barf, did I just say “beautiful”? I’m getting just as uncomfortable as you). My sister and I moan and roll our eyes whenever my dad makes my mom laugh until she is standing up dancing around the room with him when a good 80’s song comes on. We moan and groan but then laugh with them. Or at them, if the song is “Rock the Casbah” because my dad always messes up the lyrics.

My parents are best friends and teammates. They are not worried about calculating who loves who more. They trust each other. They respect each other. They make each other better people and challenge each other. They spend the most valuable thing one can spend with one another- time.

Though my sister and I tease my dad about “marrying up”, we know looks never mattered the most for either of them. It’s admirable and perfectly nauseating watching how well they work together and how much they love each other. And now I know why I find it nauseating. It’s not because I’m grossed out, or worried about suddenly getting a new addition to the family (lol, jk). It’s because I feel sick to my stomach that I’ll never find someone that will make as great of a friend as they have found in each other. I personally don’t believe in soul mates per se, but I do believe there are people out there that first, have amazing chemistry and second, work well together and create a great team. Things may not be perfect, but they have the ability to work through the trials and tribulations they went through together and make each other better humans. My parents make me cling onto that hope that I can find someone like that, and that’s where I am about now.


Though this post isn’t like previous posts where my goal is to try and motivate you to be a better person, it’s the monologue that’s going on in my head right now and I’d like to use it for reference when I’m confused later in life. Who knows where I’ll be in ten years. Twenty years. Thirty and beyond.

My parents have provided me with a great example of what I’d like to have in the future. Even looking at my friends’ parents helps as well- I’m surrounded by a bunch of adults who are so in love it wants to make me vom all over them. Lovingly, of course.

So if you’re going to take anything away from this post, ask yourself where you’re at right now. What do you believe and why? Are you with someone? Who are you with and are they pushing you to be a better person and vice versa? (Do you love this shit? Are you high right now? Do you ever feel nervous? Hahaha, jk but xoxo Drake)

But I genuinely hope that you are happy and believe in love too. Because everyone deserves that.


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