lover girls love liberation

what does that even mean?

It’s nonsensical how often I think about love, especially as time passes and the concept feels more and more akin to the Loch Ness Monster or Santa Clause.

Over a year ago, when I still used Twitter, I saw a tweet that said, “lover girls love liberation,” which naturally altered my brain chemistry, because how could lovers not desire freedom?

Isn’t love the most freeing act?

But then, I return to the first time I ever read All About Love by bell hooks, and the sour taste that it left in my mouth – not because it was anything short of brilliant but rather it made me question if I ever really knew the true definition of love.

I don’t think I did. And if I’m honest, I still wonder if I do.

If I based it off my listening sessions, which often features Joey Bada$$ and his lovely voice, then love is only a feeling. There’s an indescribable desire to be around a person, to immerse yourself in their presence, because their vibe ignites a spark that rivals that of Cupid’s arrow and the rest is history. But knowing what I know about love, I don’t believe that’s true or even remotely sustainable.

When I think about love, romantic love in particular, I imagine a deliberate choice, one that’s enduring and transformative, where all participants feel fulfilled and happy and seen.

I used to think that most romantic couplings fit into that box, but social media and my personal experiences suggest otherwise. As a result, I find myself betraying my own desires, forcing myself to care less and less about meeting a compatible partner, because I don’t think most people know what love is nor how to sustain it. Surely that’s a recipe for disaster, right? Two or more people fighting for their lives, trying to make a connection work, because delusion and desperation – neither of which are love – further blinds them to the words written in between the lines: It was never going to be us.

We were never going to be a couple with a love that transcends space, time, and reasoning. The truth hurts, but it’s imperative that we reckon with our reality or else face the alternative option of a fate where we’re destined to always feel incomplete. Isn’t that the opposite of being free? And if so, isn’t that the opposite of being a lover girl?

Janet Jackson as Justice in Poetic Justice (1993) | Columbia Pictures

Is the lover in me still alive? My friends say she can never die, but lately I beg to differ.

Lately, I’ve been questioning every relationship I’ve ever had – be it romantic, platonic, or familial – because depression, anxiety, FOMO, and occasional bouts of imposter syndrome co-conspire to convince me the love that I have to give will never be returned in the way that I deserve. It’s a shitty feeling to navigate, but I’ve found that ignoring and suppressing it no longer helps.

I keep ruminating on my pain. I know that won’t make it go away, but it’s hard to engage with some people from my past without remembering how they’ve treated me. Although people are apologetic – myself included since we’re all human and all hurt each other – I can’t wrap my mind around what led me here or how to heal myself completely.

It’s so contradicting, because I hate the victim mentality. Questionable terminology aside, it really is self-limiting to see the entire world as against you.

I don’t want to move in fear when it comes to expressing my feelings. I’m not afraid of vulnerability.

I want to be truly free. And yet, I’m confined by the need to proceed with caution, because I am an adult, and my whimsicality is deemed as childlike in its nature.

I feel trapped by my own wanting and desires, as I’m still figuring out how to differentiate between those who are emotionally safe and those who aren’t.

This dilemma can’t be love. It must be something more sinister, but then I think of the saying “there’s a thin line between love and hate,” so maybe this confusion is one and the same.

How will I return to that version of myself? The girl, turned woman, who felt less confused, who melted in the presence of others, who met them with doe-eyed looks of hope and happiness and intrigue, who didn’t view most people under the lens of suspicion.

My brain tells me to flee, as if running away and isolating myself from everyone I once knew will result in a love that stays, but I know that it’s just trying to avoid pain.

So, I don’t think it’s fair to call myself a lover girl, at least not in this season of life.

Happy Valentine’s Day. Here are five songs and five movies I’ll be thinking of today, in no particular order:

Songs.

1. Cupid by 112

2. Love Me Not by Ravyn Lenae

3. Slim Pickins by Sabrina Carpenter

4. Don’t Wanna Fall In Love by KYLE

5. Oscar Winning Tears by RAYE

Movies.

1. Love Jones (1997)

2. Moonstruck (1987)

3. The Broken Hearts Gallery (2020)

4. Poetic Justice (1993)

5. Whisper of the Heart (1995)