Age of Heartbreak

Twenty-two years and a large chunk of my friends have undergone weeks of relationship confusion and mess, which has then ended with months of unstable eating, drinking and kissing habits. Enthralled by sparks, winks, and a sappy brunch, we threw ourselves into relationships. Nothing held back. How were we once so eager to love, and now so withheld? As it turns out, after our first stab of heartbreak, entering into reckless love is unveiled as simply a fools game.

Having listened to the song a thousand times before, only now after my heart has gone through the works for the 100h time do I actually take on board Neil Young's cautions, ‘Only love can break a heart. Try to be sure right from the start.’

Where any bit of chemistry would have once been enough, older and wiser, we are cautious with our emotional investment, and ready to play hard to get. Early twenties, most people I know will require fairly intense persuasion before entering any ‘relationship’ status on Facebook. It’s paced out, well regulated, with neither person willing to make the first emotionally dependent call.

Don’t get me wrong, chemistry is always welcome. In fact, flirting, eye catches, smooth lines have never been more available, nor more important. However, when there is that chemistry, I’m learning to maintain it at a safe distance, on the Facebook database, savoring it for a rainy day. With a new found appreciation for self-assurance, what hurry is there to let yourself be hung up on another, without doubt a highly vulnerable position.

Chemistry turns rubbish for a whole range of uncontrollable reasons. Without absolute ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ decisions, we triple re-think the chemistry, relationship and future. In the process of this confusion there's either miss-communication, or alternatively exhaustion from too much communication.

Despite being guided by happily married parents and countless episodes of Sex and the City, I listen to my friend over the second order of coffee this week, completely perplexed by more unexplainable behavior. My best friends behaviour keeps me guessing, let alone explaining the feelings of the boy in question, who no doubt is probably equally as confused on how to feel and react as the wrest of us. As such, I’ve become the listening type, totally out of my depth on relationships.

It’s a reckless game to play, one difficult to explain, impossible to predict, and one that when lost hits hard. Curious and optimistic are both terrible attributes to have when protecting ones heart. And so, I find myself going against all past advice, guiding my friend not to call, to withhold physical intimacy and chuck up the barriers until more assured.

If you are looking for a bit of love that is genuinely open and intimate- you might need to find yourself an 18 year old.