is there such thing like love? 

How to recognise love? 

Maybe it’s just lust, or desire, or fancy, or just need. Something you want to be taken care of. Say, fix the mirror, set up light fixtures. Or, in case you are man, fix you some dinner, wash your stuff. You know, do things that annoy you maybe, or, do things to and for someone else to get something in return. I now think I have been using sometimes some people. It’s pretty much what Annie Lennox song states: some of them want to use you, some of them want to abuse you. And some of them want to be used by you. So, it is going on in circles for sure. What you sow is what you get. I used to hang around with my girlfriend because she had home, mother and what seemed to me that time – a healthy relationship with world. I liked going to her moms place even though it seemed to be pretty costly for me. You see, I had car and my friend did not. And her mom lived some 30 minutes drive away. But I didn’t mind that time because I had time, I was ready to trade my time and effort to the good emotions I got from these visits. We first went to shop because her mom had empty fridge always. I am not sure how any adult person here can live without means of transport. Especially when the person lives outside city, literally in forest with nothing near. No shops, no neighbours, no nothing. 

So we made weeks shopping, loaded it to my car and headed to countryside. Sometimes there were more people, young people, friends of my friend, coming. The table was long and well prepared with various foods, drinks, sweets. I think we actually made all weeks shopping dissapear with one evening. No crumbs left even. But still the emotions that I traded topped the costs. We had blast, laughed, planned, discussed. All the young people had so much experience and stories to tell that I never had. Yet they were mere two to three years younger than me. Sportsmen, masseur, personal trainer, teacher, IT manager, university student, sound technician. And me, with nothing but homelessness, self-taught languages, newborn and dead mother and no job, no income. I was nothing compared to them. They actually did what they loved, got paid for it and lived happily. I was amazed of them having no stress whatsoever. I was stressed with constant worry of what to eat, where to sleep, where to get money to pay for gas, where to put my kid when I go to job interview. And the main question was in fact how to get a job interview. 

I was just surviving. I had sores on my body from this endless stress. Literally holes on my body. Ulcers I think they are called. Just appeared out of nowhere. 

Why nobody loves me? Does my cat love me? Is my cat the only one or is he just pretending to love me in order to get the fresh meat every evening? Cats are smart. They do minimum.

Have I ever been loved? I don’t think so. I see I have been used. They loved being around me, to get some of me. Either financially or just plainly fuck me. Well, that time I loved to get fucked, literally, in the best way. I still would like to, but you see, it turned out to be complex fuck that I had to pay for also. I paid for getting fucked. Now how fucked up is that :). I always thought the transaction is sex vs money, say. But I ended up giving out both sex and money. I was truly getting fucked in many ways. And, initially I liked it. Because I thought that must be love. I liked him a lot. He seemed to like me a lot. Nothing wild. Just wild sex in a wild, on the roadside, in the car, behind the car, on the beach, in bathtub, kitchentable. Well, it was very good. The best probably, if I am honest. And I am. But then, more and more, I realised I am paying for everything – fancy dinners in fancy restaurants, his clothes, petrol for his car, vacations in warm countries, long weekends in London. I even gave him  “pocketmoney” so he could pay back his credits which he claimed he had because of his brother. First I figured, ok, he will be on his feet soon and I don’t have to pay for his stuff anymore. That was not love, that was just stupid of me. I was heading for bankruptcy. Had to run my home, household and on top cover all his costs. Yes, he made a lot – whatever I thought of – travel to a new country or new place in here, build a house, fix a truck, go fishing – he immediately agreed, never thinking even a second. Because it was my costs always. All materials, trips, food, clothes, everything was for me to be paid. I bought buildingmaterials, transport, etc and he set all up and did it. I didn’t mind. But then I ran out of money. I gave my all to him. All I had worked for for twenty years. Myself, my home, my money, my everything. And then I realised he did not put anything in except physical work. You might say thats fair tho! Unfortunately not. Because in addition to paying all, I also put in long hours of physical work on top of daily work that I got paid for. So I worked full time, paid full for all materials, worked another 6-12 hours daily on building the house, paid for his costs 100%. He only worked on the house. Simple math now tells me I gave in this relationship four units, he put in one unit. If I were rich gal I would not mind at all. I was sort of rich until I was not :). And living like a rentier surely comes to fit fast for simple people. Of course he liked travelling and fancy restaurants. Who wouldn’t?! Especially when all costs covered.

So what I am thinking is that so far people have liked or “loved” me because of money. Mainly. Because the moment I have none they disappear! Some people, men, have liked or loved me because of sex. I love sex. But who doesn’t. But loving sex and loving are not one and the same.

So have I been loved ever? Nope. Things I did were loved, things I said were loved, the songs I sang, the endless nights filled with laughter were loved. But not me.

Does it matter? Nope.

Have I loved someone? I guess not. I love myself. I have loved strawberries, sauna, first snow. My first love was not love, that was just teenagers hot and wet dream. He was hot and did everything right. Then. And then he went to his own wedding straight after spending twenty hours hot, hard and wet in my bed.

I still love beer, real tomatoes picked from my own garden, sunbathing naked, chockolate melting on my ….. and maybe one day there is someone who would lick it off.

May there be light, 

May there be warmth,

all so that crops will grow 

all so that love will grow