Love

It has come to my attention that my last few blog entries have been perhaps a little single minded, offensive and sweary.  I sat down earlier this week, chewed the keyboard for a while and my mind naturally began to devise new and interesting ways to maim, torture and kill celebrities and criminals.  Now whilst I consider this a perfectly acceptable way of using my brain bits, I realised that I should perhaps try exploring other avenues of the human condition, rather than just working out a novel method of hurting Louis Walsh (incidentally I was going to utilise the entire Mariah Carey CD back catalogue in such a way that would have him wishing she had stopped recording in 1990, just like the rest of us).

Given that I have so far exploded 3,982 words - go ahead and check if you want - of anger and vitriol into the already overflowing bucket of bile that is the internet, I realised that I need to balance things up a bit. So in the spirit of lurching from one extreme to another just like John Lennon did when he got shot, I want to talk about Love.

For me love is like being fantastically drunk on an enormous rollercoaster, listening to Meatloaf’s Bat Out of Hell on full blast while someone massages your baby making apparatus with a pair of warm furry mittens.  But I imagine experiences differ from person to person.  You only have to search as far as the relationship interviews in Heat magazine to gain a better understanding of the broad complexities of this singular emotion; "It’s like, I really like Toffee Crisps and then I found out he liked Milky Ways and I thought we were through, but then he confessed to me that he secretly also likes Toffee Crisps which was like totally amazing and then we went to India and got married forever and I had all my little dogs as amazing bridesmaids dressed up as Funsize Toffee Crisps. It was like, totally amazing and forever."

There is, I feel, an overuse of the L word in the world today.  For an example look no further than the seemingly bright and enthusiastic advertising slogan of McDonalds; I’m Lovin’ it.  I could easily get very, very angry about the lack of ‘g’ in lovin’ but that little rant would quickly get out of control and I have way too much salt in my diet to risk getting that worked up.  It is more the casual, throw away use of arguably the most important human emotion to convince you to buy McOffal that offends me.  Are you really in love with McDonalds? For all that is pure and true in this world I sincerely hope you aren’t.  Sure, you might really, really like shovelling their tasty processed treats into your head when horribly hungover, I certainly do.  But love? Actual love?  In a better world the only love that should be occurring in Maccy D’s is the sweaty, grunting physical manifestation of the emotion, perhaps in the customer toilets or while parked up in the drive thru bay while you wait for your order. 

Whilst most people seem to be fairly carefree when using love to describe their feelings towards things they merely like, the true form of the feeling is a rare and beautiful thing.  Exceedingly rare for some individuals.  It is a sad but true fact of this universe that it is easier to fall in love with someone good looking than it is to fall in love with say, someone who closely resembles Andrew Lloyd Weber.  But take heart ugly and loveless reader because even Andrew, who has a face like a plate of melted Duplo bricks, has been successful on the battlefield of romance.  It of course has nothing to do with his enormous wealth. This is said with no hint of sarcasm or cynicism; it genuinely has nothing to do with the money. Just Google a picture of his face………see?.......only love in it’s purest form can go beyond that.  And he still managed to nail Sarah Brightman.

So if you are ugly, poor, talentless and have all the charisma of a Pot Noodle tub brimming with monkey sick then it’s a case of having to work a little harder to force someone to fall in love with you.  It’s all about salesmanship and making the target of your heart’s desire see the hidden beauty underneath your hideous, sneering, violent exterior.  Those of you that have already been victorious will know that you have to work harder than an Israeli Estate Agent selling new builds in Gaza in order to successfully pull it off.  Or was that just me?

But in the end it is always, always worth the effort.  To have love reciprocated by another human being (let’s quickly skip over the subject of bestiality here) is the single most astonishing feeling to experience.  The sensations surpass everything. You are convinced that what you are feeling makes the story of Tristan and Iseult look as significant as Kerry Katona and Insert Next Husband Here selling their marriage in OK magazine with exclusive pictures of their wedding reception in Greggs.

Right, that’s enough. 867 words of being vaguely nice, no swearing at all and talking about love. Not bad, eh? I will wait and see what reaction I get from this post before considering my next subject.  Suggestions are more than welcome, but be warned, if I use your proposed topic and it doesn’t go down well then I will feed Tinie Tempah into a wood chipper and drown you in the resultant slurry of blood, teeth, gold earrings and bad lyrics.  Aren’t I a cunt?