World, I am in love. With London (among other things and other people…well, one particular person).
I’m a woman obsessed with cities. With their people and various cultures and sub-cultures. With their different styles of architecture. With their various cuisines to sample. With the simple fact that you can turn a corner and see and experience something new. Although I tend to get lost in massive metropolises, the thing that I like about cities is I can always find something new about myself.
I came to London with love on the brain, to visit my partner, Stephen, and to see if I could develop a taste for London life. We sat at Sunday roast together with friends; our elbows bumping as we ate (me trying not to look like an animal as I shoved as much lamb and Yorkshire pudding into my mouth as possible). We ate dinner with his close friends, Jimi and Lucinda. I noticed the cute, small things that they did to remind each other how much they love one another. During dinner, I thought about mine and Stephen’s love story- especially about how obsessed I’ve been about holding his hand over the last couple of months of long distance and how I finally got to feel its warmth.
In London, I learned a lot about love. The love I have for my partner. The love I have for myself. I learned that love stories can be small regardless of physical status (either with a man, city or otherwise). I grew up with Disney princesses and in the golden age of romantic comedies (“Sleepless in Seattle” is one I keep reflecting on), thinking that you need to proclaim your love from the tallest of towers, over the radio wires, at the top of your lungs, to anyone who would listen. You don’t. The smallest tokens can mean much more. Respect. Trust. Understanding. That’s love- the love you have for a significant other and the love you have for yourself.
Each love story is different. One of the biggest challenge I face is comparing the various love stories I experienced my life (as well as the evolving love story I have with myself)- they are all different but they are perfect in their strange little way. Each love story deserves a chance to pan out in its own special way. There is no need to force things. Just remain open and let things happen. Just let love envelope you- and when you do, love will really embrace you without a thought or question. I felt this way when I lived in New York City (despite having intense, awful moments with the city) and I feel this way about London- just let it love. The sites, the people, the food, my darling Stephen. Let love be. And let love in.
(But I do- REALLY- hope to make England my permanent home one day.)
Tell me your love story, dear reader- your love story with a person or otherwise…