Women think romance is all that there is about love. Getting swept off their feet, finding their knight in shining armor, finding their one true love – a soulmate even. Candlelit dinners, moonlit walks on the beach, a slow, rhythmic dance to a trippy love song…

You ask any woman what her idea of perfect love is and nine times out of ten, they’ll be able to describe it perfectly to you, with matching lists and a number of requirements to boot. It’s crazy! To think that love can be encompassed and be limited to a number of requirements on a woman’s bucket list. And mind you, men do it too. In a much simpler, barbaric way. They just look for a girl version of themselves, who will both be a mother and a whore to them. Kind of simple, if the man is simple. But find a fucking, complicated man more complicated than a motherfucking labyrinth and you get a bucket list longer than a fucking novel rivaling Madeleine’s Artamene.

We’re all reduced to looking for perfect loves and perfect matches, when in reality, no one is perfect, and no one (human) loves perfectly. So why look for something that does not exist? We’re all made with deficiencies – flaws that make us deliciously human and vibrantly more alive. So why look for perfect love when we’re all imperfect beings loving imperfectly?

Love shouldn’t be reduced to a list. Or a process of do’s and don’ts. Love just simply is. Without you knowing it or making a list, it’ll creep up to you from deep down your gut up to your heart, into deep, deep inside your mind. That’s how you know you’re in love. When you can’t find a reason for why you’re in love, and you just say, “I don’t know why, I just am.”

Love isn’t a formula, or a recipe. So go into it blindly, and come out of it with your eyes wide open – to the world.