Shall I compare thee?

My mind is made up.

I will not sway.

You I have chosen,

With you I will stay.

 

There is a bell curve to every relationship.

Initially it’s a contest. There are choices available to at least one of the two people. So initially, you are fighting. Trying to be the best. Trying to be first. Trying to be the best-loved. And then you are. Right until you reach the top of that bell and the slide begins. It could take a month, a year, it could take seven years for the itch to develop, but somewhere, somehow, you will  realise that you’re fighting again. And ironically, it’s for the same place that you thought you had won.

You might be a wife, a mother, a girlfriend, or even the love of his life. But then, at some point of time, you will just be the woman who doesn’t satisfy him anymore. Or even worse, you will never be the woman who used to satisfy him.

This is why we hate comparisons. From childhood up, when we were compared to sundry cousins. To school, when we were compared to the rankers, the performers. To college, being compared to the popular girls. To love, when we were compared to ghosts or mirages.

Comparisons imply the presence of a second. And we all wish we were unique.

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