So, below is my article published in this months issue of Exit. http://www.exit.co.za/
If only there was a relationship rehab we could go to in order to take the time away from reality, to allow our bodies to expel it all. A place where reality just sank into the background and time kind of stops so that our blood can circulate over and over again until all the love has seeped out our pours with our sweat. Somewhere we can deal with being singled… where we can stand up one by one and say “Hi, My name is Juanne-Pierre and I have been dumped”.
Love can actually be measured in our brains. It is proven and tested that when in love a certain part of the brain activates a euphoric stimulation. Quite similar to the rush one would get if one were to hit back a line of cocaine. So is love really just an addiction? And how do we cut the habit?
One beautiful evening at a dinner party, at a friends home who was much older than myself, I was told that guys in their twenties are like a drug. All of the older guys admitted to being recreational users. Indulging in the bliss of the naïve twenty something life only momentarily, for a taste, for a rush and before you know it they are back to there own lives. Intrigued by the whole comparison I wondered, could a man in his forties and a guy in his twenties ever really find a way to be on the same track? Is that love real? And who is the drug and who is the substance?
Now if we break down a user we can begin to get a clearer understanding of exactly what they are using. So someone addicted: will do anything for what they want, will lie to the people closest to them about their addiction, will sneak it in whenever they can, will experience a change in their exterior appearance
The substance, on the other hand, can be classified exactly as what it is, a substance. The user in turn makes it into whatever they want it to be. So the man in his forties is the user and the guy in his twenties is the substance? Can the two not just have fallen in love?
The men at the table are quick to remind me of the love heroin and a heroin addict form. That really special bond that only comes from true addiction. The user loves using heroin and the heroin loves being used. This seems extreme. Way too extreme. Am I to believe that I am like heroin? So what? In a few years we will go off, and then we are safe to use for more than just recreation? Did we not deserve more respect than that? And who exactly is determining our worth based on our age?
After slating my last relationship, the men felt the need to throw salt in the wounds by informing me that the twinks are the one’s for sex. The twinks are the really good drugs and I am by no means age appropriate to be classified as a twink anymore. I am way too old to be a twink? I knew this but it still sucks to hear it said to my face. Apparently guys in their twenties are split in two. So then exactly what am I to older men…?
A puppy! I am a sugar daddy’s puppy. I am there purely for entertainment. Once I grow to become a dog I will be set free on a farm somewhere, to roam the grounds with all the other dogs.
So… now I am a heroin-pushing puppy?
Then where is my owner? If I am a puppy where is my keeper? Why am I sitting with a group of older men on my ace? Am I the ugly puppy, the last one in the box, the runt with the dirt patches that’s really part of my coat?
After their laughter starts to subside they build up anticipation for their response. Apparently, I am still alone because I am a puppy that bites. That wild puppy with the bouncing personality, chewing anything it feels needs to be chewed. Urinating where the territory needs to me marked. That puppy everyone loves and everyone hates. The feral beast that is just untamable and completely wild.
I was humbled by the acute observation and down right honest opinions, even if in the end it does turn me into a vivacious terror puppy with heroin strapped to the waist. Who can say no to that? But who can’t see that that will be bad for them? It does seem a little dangerous…
So are relationships a little misplaced, in their general sense of propriety, based on whom we are supposed to be dating? And if so, who is the one deciding what is best in any given relationship in terms of age, skin, creed and sex? Relationships always consisted of two people and I was always under the impression that it would be those said people who would decide exactly how there relationship will pan out. Don’t we set the rules anymore?
Maybe after all of it we are actually the ones addicted to our older lovers. Maybe we are addicted to the torture of loving someone completely unattainable. So from the viewpoint of the twenty-something guy, maybe older guys are the brand new designer drugs…
Or maybe, just maybe, some of us really are just wild puppies and wild dogs, destined to run free until we find someone just as wild to run with.