I say this, and people give me this peculiar piercing look. Then they ask me, is it serious?Â And I am flummoxed. I mean, what is serious? Liver cancer is serious. Babies are serious. Anything involving lawyers is serious. But loveâ€”how serious is that?
I just can’t sem to take serious seriously. Serious seems to imply some major sacrifice. But I have no money to lose; no career to change or forfeit. I’m too old for babies (to which i can finally, silently, add thank god). When I was 25 I was all too ready to throw myself into romantic fixation, but the truth is that now i know myself too well, and I like my own company too much, to sacrifice much of anything.
I suppose agreeing to share the rent can be serious, especially if the accommodation has only one bed. I’ve done that before, a couple of timesâ€”but it didn’t seem particularly serious then, and in restrospect, it wasn’t. It was mostly just convenient, and fun to play house for a while. I really thrive by having my own space. I’m not totally ruling out cohabitation as a concept, but splitting the rent doesn’t seem all that serious to me.
Maybe the seriousness implies legal entanglementâ€”i.e, marriage. The funny thing is, I offered to marry Daniel even before we’d done the nasty. I proposed to him in a coffee shop. I explained that although I am opposed to marriage on principle, in his case, I would be willing to make an exception. My objection is that I am convinced that the state really has no place in the bedrooms of the nation, and whose business is it anyway, what parts of our bodies we may or may not put into each others bodies and how often? And why would anyone ever want to pay the government $100 for a licence to love someone (or $125 if you get it framed)? I think legal marriage is stupid. But I told Daniel that for him, I might be willing to throw down. Because, he is a lovely man, and it is a damn shame he was born American. And I think Canada would be all the better for having him in it. So I offered to bend my principle and offer my hand in marriage, if it might ease his legal entry into the country.
Daniel was a little taken aback by my proposal. He sputtered and said really?! I said, sure, if it would help. He gave me this look, this funny kind of shy and hopeful and miffed all at the same time look. But â€¦ he said â€¦ I would want it to mean something. There was something honest and grave in his voice. Something just a little bit serious.
Love is breath, it is buoyant. Love keeps me aloft. It keeps my head above water, and holds my feet to the ground. Love has levity, but also gravity. I guess it is the gravity of love that makes it serious. Serious, maybe. But not chronic. Or at least, not terminal.
<photo: Daniel’s mom’s very serious antique watering can collection>