Love Is A Cunt vs. Lust Is Blah
The other day, I was on the tube when suddenly I smelt a perfume that I hadn't smelt in years. It was the preferred choice of Dr. Marisa Carulli - whose name I still remember after all these years. She had been the lady I did my work experience 'under', when I was fourteen. She was Italian, 6'2, had the body of a goddess, the mind of a genius and her hair was... ugh... to speak of its beauty would ruin it. I was work shadowing her, so I 'had' to follow her around day after day, a smile permanently slapped across my face, dangling off her every word and look. I gave up a week of my holiday to do more voluntary work with her for free. On my last day, I stayed on her shift all night, savouring every last moment with her. And when we parted, she hugged me and was amused/sad that I'd become so hung up on an untouchable supermodel doctor twice my age. And when I went home, I had a little cry.
Fucking pathetic kid, you may snort, and that's fine. I spit on that boy with the venom I usually reserve for people 'happily' in love. He should've castrated and hung himself back then, before his hopeless lovestricken idiocy could fuck me up the way it has.
But see, that boy was never in love with Dr. Carulli. He thought he was at the time, because he was young and cuntingly stupid. And after his little cry he enjoyed the rest of his holidays and went back to school and always thought of her whenever he smelt that rare Italian perfume.
That's lust.
I didn't know her. We didn't connect on any deep level. We didn't talk socially, or meet after work because we enjoyed each other's personality. She didn't penetrate my heart and mind and make me think of her all hours of the day, nor did she talk to me as though she understood my every nuance and secret.
No, I just wanted to be near her because she encompassed ideals I liked at the time - that she was beautiful, that she was a doctor. The entire rest of her being was not only unknown to me, but I didn't care. I still wanted her.
I lust for the girls in the Pretty Polly advert, I lust for Enid in the film 'Ghost World', I lust for that ridiculous Scottish girl I met in the pub last Friday, I lust for every single woman in Poland. It's just a want for them, based on a few isolated ideals, applied in a slap-dash way which doesn't phase me no matter what the outcome.
It's just want. It cannot be painful to fall out of lust, just as it cannot be painful to not get something you want. It's just... dissapointing.
Love is when want becomes need. I won't go into detail about what love is, because not only does the description of lust suggest it, but there are hundreds of posts which already try and pin it's elusive nature down. But one thing we know, is that to fall out of it is painful.
That's the easiest way to spot the difference. Love is a cunt, whilst lust is blah.
Fucking pathetic kid, you may snort, and that's fine. I spit on that boy with the venom I usually reserve for people 'happily' in love. He should've castrated and hung himself back then, before his hopeless lovestricken idiocy could fuck me up the way it has.
But see, that boy was never in love with Dr. Carulli. He thought he was at the time, because he was young and cuntingly stupid. And after his little cry he enjoyed the rest of his holidays and went back to school and always thought of her whenever he smelt that rare Italian perfume.
That's lust.
I didn't know her. We didn't connect on any deep level. We didn't talk socially, or meet after work because we enjoyed each other's personality. She didn't penetrate my heart and mind and make me think of her all hours of the day, nor did she talk to me as though she understood my every nuance and secret.
No, I just wanted to be near her because she encompassed ideals I liked at the time - that she was beautiful, that she was a doctor. The entire rest of her being was not only unknown to me, but I didn't care. I still wanted her.
I lust for the girls in the Pretty Polly advert, I lust for Enid in the film 'Ghost World', I lust for that ridiculous Scottish girl I met in the pub last Friday, I lust for every single woman in Poland. It's just a want for them, based on a few isolated ideals, applied in a slap-dash way which doesn't phase me no matter what the outcome.
It's just want. It cannot be painful to fall out of lust, just as it cannot be painful to not get something you want. It's just... dissapointing.
Love is when want becomes need. I won't go into detail about what love is, because not only does the description of lust suggest it, but there are hundreds of posts which already try and pin it's elusive nature down. But one thing we know, is that to fall out of it is painful.
That's the easiest way to spot the difference. Love is a cunt, whilst lust is blah.
posted by Juliet is Bleeding... | 11:19 pm
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My previous comment was too harsh. What I meant to say, betwixt the 'you fucking cunt's, was that your comment makes no sense to me. I said that she has to speak "as though" she understands me. That's one of the 'requirements', as you put it. I don't see it as a requirement, it's just all part and parcel of her and I sharing a oneness which is hard to find with some random floozy that happens to get you hard.
You can feel this oneness for a single night with someone, and wake up the next day and not feel it. Love's a cunt like that. Next Q?
I think that sums it up better than my entire post.
JB, posting here instead of previous blog so as not to annoy you with too many comments...
Three quarters of the population may be forced to settle out of lack of option and may pretend it’s love to soothe their depression but given a chance and opportunity if they “unsettle” themselves then what they had was not love.
Love is when you have doors open but you do not seek to walk out of them and leave the other person alone. Sometimes you are forced to walk out of that door for various reasons but even then you are constantly trying to make their life better- that is love. When you lose a person you feel as if you have lost a part of your body, your existence, your reason for living - that is love.
Lust is when you are consumed by the other person and want to exist just for that person at that point in time because that person takes all your sense and emotions to the extreme. Without that person you will be empty and sad but you will not be disabled. In lust there is “you and me” but in love there is only “us”.
Oh and if that person you left alone behind that door needs you then you go to them rather than staying with the person you have lust for, if those two are different people.
The distinction Dr. Drew is that if there is only one person you can save, you will save the one you love, not the one you lust for. That is the difference.
You could kill for lust but you could give your life for love, that is the difference.
Dobry dzień.
kocham was.
'when want becomes need'
Yeh... love is not about need. At all. There is such a thing as needy love but to me that is along the lines of 'falling in love' which is really only one step up from lust. That isn't true love, though and really ought to be avoided (although it does have it's good feelings, as lust does). In true love you want the best for the other person. You are happy for them when they find happiness - even if that means they must be with someone else. There is no attachment in love aside from empathy.