There is a difference between passion and drama.
They might look the same at times, and they often go hand-in-hand: passionate lovemaking after a passionate argument, or passionate dancing followed by road rage on the way home. Nothing is perfect, but there’s a pretty clear balance in these instances: a yin and a yang, a good passion and a not so pleasant passion, which we call drama.
My life’s question has long been, How do I get more of Column A, and less of Column B? I want to go up, up, up, and never come back down. I want the celebratory procession without the battle that precedes it.
I want to win without having to try. I want passion without drama.
Is this an attainable goal? I think in one way yes and in one way no. You can’t have a real celebration if you don’t have a triumph, even just the triumph of life itself, to galvanize the purpose. But at the same time, creating a problem just so it can be solved is a misdirection of energy, sometimes with grave consequences.
Let me begin with mine. Last year, I fell in love with a Peruvian girl. Well, she was hardly a girl at 31 and six and a half years older than me, but with time…
I found that her emotional maturity was definitely lagging behind her age.
When things started out, she cautioned me that she didn’t want anything serious. “I’m not trying to wife this b,” I thought to myself. “Who said anything about anything serious? Shit.”
This conversation was followed in the coming weeks by an apparent deterioration in her barrier against me and then, indeed, a night of longheld glances, delicate handholding, and, eventually, a deep kiss that led to — you guessed it — passionate lovemaking. Paola, and that is not her real name, laid her hands on me with such tenderness, and looked at me with such intensity, that by dawn I knew I had it made.
This was the passion.
Alas, in no time, we were arguing forcefully about the stupidest things: a look I did or didn’t give her at the right or wrong moment during dinner; what time or day to get together; whether to have coffee or tea — at Starbucks. This was the drama.
It got worse and worse until I decided I had to leave her. More drama. Then we got back together: a little passion, but then a lot of drama. That lasted for about a week. And it’s how I arrived at this issue of balance: how to love without possessing, how to disagree without fighting, how to see without judging.
After giving my heart to Paola when I knew full well she wouldn’t know what to do with it, — she told me so, for Pete’s sake — it seems like drama might just be what happens when we let our passion run our lives, or when we let it take us too hard or too fast in one direction.
I think of Paola rather often for how short and fraught our relationship was. On our last morning together, we kissed and said I love you like we always did before parting — but this time, because we knew it was the last, with a little more passion. We next saw each other by chance at a club, and let me tell you, that was drama. That was it for me, as I never called or saw her again; but inside my heart I bounced between those two extremes for months, watching the distance between them decrease a bit each time, until finally, now, or one day soon, I will look at the whole situation and just be, well, OK about it all.
Do you have any stories of old flames, loves that just wouldn’t work, or passion and drama?
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JULIE JOON جولی