Love is a binder hater
In 2016, I worked as a waiter in a cruise ship's restaurant. On a horrendous night, I was almost losing my sanity and on the verge of blowing up. The reason why it was a horrible night for me, I'm not so sure anymore. Probably it's because a passenger intentionally poured his leftover wine onto the white linen tablecloth in front of us as a protest of our bad service, and that he wanted to punish us. Or because I was just very tired, and everyone was getting on my nerves.
So, I went to the kitchen, ready to just punch something when one of my colleagues came to me, grabbed my arm, and said, "I love you, Nuril." Then they smiled and left. It caught me off guard. So, instead of letting out my rage, my feelings shifted drastically. I was embarrassed. It was the first time someone said those very words to me, and I still can quite recall the whole scene. It was also very casual from their side, but hella unexpected for me. I'm ashamed to have received the words. After that, I went back to my station and did my job, but my heart was thumping the whole night. I never asked them why did they love me.
A year later, someone from the publishing industry said the same thing, casually: "I love you." But I didn't respond to that as well. Instead of letting it go, they tried to pry into me.
"Why? You never said it to anyone before?" they asked.
I said, "Yeah, never. Also, you're the second person to ever say that to me."
I was 32 years old back then.
"Well, you should practice," they said.
Mind you, this person was quite evil and did injustice to me in the end, so this coming from them was quite rich! How can you claim to love me and wanting to harm me? Love. Love my ass? That is just a word not a binder!*
What's the point of this post? I don't know, really. Lately, I've been in a terrible state. I lost my temper three times within a week. People from the ministry, government officials, other writers, and even some friends—they all experienced my wrath. To assume that I'm not always like that is probably wrong. Blaming my borderline personality disorder for my actions doesn't seem quite right too. Despite the strong mood fluctuations that can't be controlled because of how sick my mind is, maybe the root cause is that I am so unfamiliar with love. All I seem to understand are jealousy, anger, and distrust. I always demand transparency and equality.
I don't know why I have this kind of personality, where I push people away, but I think it's because I haven't had alcohol for a very long time. I think I need to buy a bottle of whiskey tonight. I have some money from being a speaker on a panel. I know I should use it to buy a bag of rice or something, but I also want to drink, okay? I'm gonna get so drunk tonight that I can break my own skull without feeling anything! Ha. Then the bag of rice would become irrelevant. That's my logic, and it makes the very sense!
But do I regret being angry? No, I don't. I think the anger was necessary. I think I must always be honest about how I feel. When I was angry, it was also a part of my truth. That's precisely how I felt in that moment.
However, my anger, no matter how volcanic it may be, always lasts for less time than a single orgasm, and, much like the 'post nut clarity,' I find myself feeling remorse afterward.
The phrase "Love. Love my ass? That is just a word, not a binder!" seems to express a degree of skepticism or cynicism about the concept of love. It suggests that the speaker believes that the word "love" is merely a term and does not hold any real meaning or binding power. In other words, it's a way of expressing doubt or disbelief in the depth or authenticity of love, implying that actions and commitment matter more than the mere use of the word "love." The use of "Love my ass?" can be seen as a rhetorical question challenging the sincerity of love. (chatGPT)