For me it's like ice blocking.
Have you ever gone ice blocking? You buy a huge blog of ice from the grocery store for a dollar, take it to a hill, put a towel between your backside and the frozen water, put your feet up and slide down the hill.
Sounds fun, right?
The only problem is, sometimes the hill is really steep, or you forget how fast gravity works, and instead of being a fun trip, you start to panic. "This is crazy. This is scary. This is way too fast!" And instead of enjoying the ride, you put your heals down to slow it down. Sometimes that works, but usually I just bail out.
Why do I bail? Well, that's easy, really: I'm scared of where I'm headed. I feel out of control — And I'm not one to freely give up control. And just like sliding down a hill on an ice block, I lose my balance. My life becomes out of balance. So I bail, rolling a little bit, but eventually stopping, gaining balance again, going back to how I was. My comfort zone. And it's not exactly what I want, but it's what I know, it's where I have control, and it's at my own pace. And even though it's not graceful, it doesn't hurt nearly so bad as crashing at the bottom.
So love for me — or more appropriately put, romantic relationships — is like ice blocking. Full of anticipation and fun, at first exhilarating and then terrifying. The hill is so steep, gravity is so strong, and I'm just not sure if I'm going to glide into a beautiful landing, or crash and end up in a bloody mess at the bottom. I like control, I like planning, and ice blocking is all about going with it and trusting you can keep your balance and following through to the end, if you dare.
So, there it is, my analogy on love.
Except, where's the other person in all this? Or is the other person gravity? He's not the ice block. Well, maybe.
OK, so my analogy needs some work. But I stand by it. Love is like ice blocking.
And I'm bad at ice blocking.
Stevie's got some style with her bail. :o) June 2006 in Washington.