Quarterlife Diaries: ‘why calm love is always better’

If you look at my love history, you see one big, thick, red thread running through that timeline. My type was almost always the same: they were tall, a bit older, had dark hair, and generally had the emotional availability of a paving stone. Really, it was almost impressive how I managed to hook someone with a greater case of commitment phobia every time for years.

It always went the same way: where the so-called situationships usually started off cozy, they turned into great panic time and time again. With them, I mean, I didn't see the stress so much, but it certainly caused unrest to have to deal with those professors in doubt every time. Looking back, I might have been a bit addicted to that feeling of uncertainty and that constant back-and-forth racing between my heart and my head. I confused the butterflies in my stomach from doubt and ambiguity for tingles of budding love, and I embarrassingly thought for far too long that I was simply falling in love with everyone who crossed my path.

Until just over a year ago, when I found love with a man who is truly the embodiment of calm. Our romance began, as a true modern love story should, slowly. That was because of me, you know, because at first, I was convinced that the lack of uncertainty and doubt meant that this was not a good match (because all the situations where that was indeed the case had all turned out so well – not). So I kept holding back, and sometimes weeks went by before we saw each other again.

After the third date, it clicked. My heart took over from my head, and I was sold. This was mainly because he could make me laugh so incredibly hard. Dates with me had often been a kind of one-woman comedy show, but compared to this man, I was like a mime artist who could do nothing but laugh so hard that almost no sound came out.

And we can still laugh like that, that's something that will never change. What has changed is the way I look at love. Where I used to always think that unrest, doubt, and hassle equated to intense infatuation, that will never win against the heavenly peace I experience when we are together. I feel at home with him, he is my safe haven where I don't have to keep up appearances, and he motivates and inspires me to pursue my dreams.

Not that it wasn't exciting because it certainly was. I still remember taking weeks to say that I love him. Something I had felt for a long time, but which I couldn't possibly get out of my mouth. That skill was, due to years of fishing in the pond of uncontrolled projectiles, somewhat rusty. Also, the feeling of calm was something that could really overwhelm me. This was different from anything I had ever experienced. This was calm, steady, and easy, and I think we were both a bit shocked by that. Because was it really okay?

I surely can't be the only one who has ever wondered this, but my answer won't surprise you: if you feel this, it's more than okay. Those tingles come, because they came for me too. They now fly in zen mode through their butterfly garden instead of behaving as if they just had three Red Bulls. If you ask me, a calm love is always better than a rushed and uncertain situation that keeps you awake at night. At some point, you just get too old to chase that eternal unrest with a bloodbath. And let's be honest: who has the stamina for that at the respectable age of 30+? Not me.