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I just got back from a long trip, the longest I have ever taken. Where was I, you ask? I was in a magnificent little village called Loverville. Before, I even realized it 15 months had flown by. It took some doing but I was finally able to let myself leave this eternal fantasy land.

Loverville is a wonderful albeit bizarre place. It’s not about the destination because, Loverville is nowhere and everywhere at the same time. It is about the journey. And even though one doesn’t really plan to end up in Loverville, it is primordial that you make the voyage with someone worthy.

I stumbled across this little village when the time was right (or wrong) it just presented itself like an oasis in desert of miserable dates. It’s not Disney World; but it can be a very happy place. Imagine that every time you encounter your beloved it is like your favorite date. Every. Single. Time. That sounds amazing, right? Oh, believe me it is… until it isn’t. In the beginning it seemed like a win-win situation. I could spend time with a fantastic man who was cultured, well-traveled, intelligent, handsome, generous, and a phenomenal lover (duh, you can’t go to Loverville with a lame lay).

Having a lover*, is sexy and it seems grown as hell. I admit that I was surprised to be on the threshold of Loverville and I tried to leave as soon as I realized I had taken this detour. Then I took a beat and asked myself why I was such a rush was to leave this magic little bubble? You know the old saying: it’s better to have a bird in the hand, then one in the bush. For a moment I foolishly bought into that logic. I wasn’t seeing anyone else and the thought having one fantastic encounter at irregularly scheduled intervals seemed more appealing than suffering through anymore horrible dates.

Until one day I realized the flaw in my thinking. It was like the time I refused to give up a gorgeous pair of Chloe trousers that no longer fit after I gave birth. I loved everything about those jeans. Just the thought of them evokes precious memories; from where I bought them to how they made me feel when I wore them. But you know what, childbirth changes your body. Even though I lost the baby weight, I was never able to fit into those jeans again. My body had changed, and I would just have to deal. Of course, I could have kept them, but what would be the point to holding on to something that didn’t fit the new me?

It can be truly intoxicating to get caught up this type of situationship. The very nature of it, lacks definition. You and your lover create the rules by which you will be governed. There is something extremely intimate about this type of relationship, yet at the same time it can rather cold and distant.

If you have taken up residence in Loverville, you know there is an undeniable sexual energy and chemistry between you. You are literally baring your soul and everything in between to your travel companion. However, you know (or at least you should know) that is only a temporary blissful moment and then it is over. Until your next rendezvous that is.

Faced with these truths, you start to adapt and accept the behavior of a lover. In Loverville everything glitters. You are never ill, upset, or a have a bad day. You are always putting your best foot forward. You don’t show up in sweats and an old grungy t-shirt. You put on your smell goods and fuck me pumps because you are ready to assume your roll in the fantasy.

As with all things in life, one should know when to make their exit. Loverville is an enchanting place but staying a moment longer than you are comfortable with will but you on the speed boat to Resentment City- which is to be avoided at all costs. Loverville is just too perfect, it’s not real. Realness is the antithesis of Loverville. This is a good vibes only kinda place. What more could you want right? You would think nothing but when you look in that dark place that you try and avoid- the answer is MORE.

I began to realize that I wanted more. The magic pixie dust had begun to wear off and I could see the fairytale for what it is. Maybe, what I really wanted was not more but rather REAL. You can’t truly know joy if you haven’t experienced pain. How can you appreciate the highs if you don’t know what it is to be low?

Don’t get me wrong I am NOT advocating for some toxic drama filled relationship. I just know that in Loverville there is no time for the real to seep in. Here time is finite. You are racing against the clock. There is no time for the banal and the mundane. Who cares about your shitty day? Or the fact your car needs new brakes, that is not sexy. And if you are not sexy in Loverville, what are you even doing there.

But, how do you know when you time is up in the Loverville? Excellent question. I am glad you asked. And the answer is simple: YOU will know when. Then you owe it to yourself and your companion to gracefully leave town. It is a sure sign that your rose-colored glasses have slipped when the superficial connection that is offered in Loverville doesn’t satisfy you anymore. When you start wanting something, anything more you will have to re-examine the ground rules that were established upon your arrival to the Ville. Never say never but, most of the time these rules are iron clad and likely not up for negotiation.

And that is ok. Be thankful for the time that you spent in Loverville, if you did it right, I am sure you had a wonderful time and learned somethings along the way. I am a firm believer in things happening for a season, a reason, or a lifetime. If you are fortunate enough to pass through Loverville, enjoy every moment, soak it up, bask in the post coital glow, and then continue YOUR journey. Loverville is an ephemeral state, not a final destination.

“If you spend too long holding on to the one who treats you like an option, you’ll miss finding the one who treats you like a priority.” -unknown

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