The Suitcase Philosopher
A dear friend told me that falling in love was like crawling into a suitcase and shutting the lid. After a few moments, I relinquished the desire to seem intelligent enough to understand, and asked how in the world falling in love worked with the suitcase analogy.
“Falling in love,” she told me, “is a choice, for one thing.”
“Then wouldn’t you say it was like falling into a suitcase, not crawling into one?” Not that I had yet grasped love’s association with luggage.
“Of course not. Falling into a suitcase would be the result of an act of epic clumsiness, wouldn’t you say? While crawling into one is a choice.”
“So you’re saying falling in love is a choice.”
“Exactly.”
Still lost, I persevered. “So you don’t believe it’s something over which we have no control?”
“Which – crawling into a suitcase or falling in love?”
“The former.”
“No. You see, the initial attraction may be beyond our control, but the subsequent act of falling in love is a choice. It’s the result of consideration of the circumstances.”
“Circumstances, you say.” I nodded, feeling even more like an idiot. “What circumstances?”
“Why, the initial attraction, how strong it is, how long it’s lasted, the person in question’s essence and how well it works with one’s own, things like that. If everything works together, we then make the choice to let our libidos bleed into our emotions, and voila! We’ve chosen to fall in love!”
I took a deep breath, ready to try rolling the boulder uphill once more. “Okay, then, it’s a choice. But how does that relate to a suitcase?”
She gave me a wide smile and spread her hands. “Simple! Once everything is packed away and the lid closed, the inside of the suitcase and its contents become its own universe. When you fall in love, everything in your life is contained within the confines of that choice – the person with whom you’re in love is the center, the star around which you orbit, if you will. And everything else in your life from that point on is in some way or other related to or dependent upon that person and your relationship with him or her. You see?”
“Like an addiction.” I’d long since comprehended all that, but the suitcase thing had thrown me.
“An addiction? In many ways, yes.”
I felt like Einstein. “Ah! So according to your analogy, falling in love involves closing out everything familiar and common, making what’s inside the relationship your new ‘familiar’ and your new ‘common,’ like nestling into the contents of a closed suitcase. Am I getting this right?”
“You are. How delightful! Epiphany has burst upon you!”
I frowned. “You sound ridiculous when you say things like that. Who are you – Aristotle?”
A snort. “No, you silly thing. I’m you. Now go make supper.”
I nodded and stepped away from the mirror. Suitcases and love – I sighed and wondered what new, bizarre thought might soon send me back into the looking-glass.
Impressum
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 19.02.2017
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