An often quoted but more often wrong blanket generalization is that both guys and girls only want one thing — just the one thing is different. For girls, they want the ring on the finger (commitment) and for guys? Well, you know what I’m getting at.
Commitment is wonderful (I hear). Knowing that you’ve got that special someone there for you, through thick and thin, through too many Jaeger shots and too many burritos, through job abhorrance to the excitement of a new house…well, that’s amazing. The trust, the care, the sense of constant companionship that is inherent (or at least should be) in a committed relationship is at the same time subconsciously soothing and startlingly sincere. It’s a gift.
Yet there comes a time when commitment isn’t at the top of our female forefronts and something else takes precedence. No, we’ve not yet crossed the bridge to omni-porn-fantasyland that comes with being a guy, but we do, at times, long for something else. To this I say “Screw Commitment, give me Co-Smit-ment.”
Yes, Co-Smit-ment, the state of being in which two people are hopelessly and undeniably smitten with each other such that their name pops up in every sentence. As in “Actually, Professor, I disagree with your theory of relativity, and speaking of relative, my snooky Jo-Jo’s most eccentric relative is his Uncle Pete.”) Co-Smit-ment involves the stomach butterflies, the down-low tingles upon thinking of your last encounter and the obsessive inclusion of your hope-to-be sig-others name in unrelated conversation. It involves dreams where they pop up in strange places (such as the house on the new series of the Real World), Co-Smit-ment-Co-Phone-Calls (when the phone rings and you were just about to call them), and a whole lot of other seemingly wus-making behaviour that you all know about but refuse to admit.
This is the feeling of your first crush — be it the unattainable class hunk who dated a new girl at every middle school dance or the first boy you kissed, it’s that feeling that you can do anything, that all is possible, and that love notes passed between classes are more precious than anything. It’s the late-night phone calls that go on forever, the cards in the mail (just because), the public admittance of your cheezy, sappy, and most embarrassing quasi-girl/boy friend behaviours because, well, it just happens. It’s the late 80’s mix tapes that took you an entire evening to get JUST RIGHT, the late 90’s mix CD’s that burned while you watched the season finale of Friends, and the way one of those old songs can still evoke a distant tingle of days gone by.
The best part of Co-Smit-ment is that it’s the promise of the future, of lasting romance that can still make you blush even into your old age, the look in your grandparents’ eyes when they reminisce about the past, holding their partner’s time-aged hand in their own. It’s the fact that butterflies are always possible, and may actually be right around the corner. It’s seeing yourself in another’s eyes and for once, being happy with what you see. It’s magic.
So, to all of you who are lucky enough to be in Co-Smit-ment, congratulations. I will get there one day, I promise. Until then, I’ll settle for nothing less.