I know that sounds like a declaration of the cynicism that comes from a bitter life of lust, but I'm dead serious.  I'm not just being a pessimist for the hell of it this time--although I have been known to do that every now and then.

 

I really, honest-to-God, cross-my-heart-and-hope-to-die, don't believe in love.

 

Oh, don't get me wrong.  I believe in puppy love.  I believe in infatuation.  I even believe in that little tingle in your stomach that means someone extremely attractive--both physically AND mentally--is glancing your way.  I just don't believe in true love.  I don't believe in the kind of love that makes people coin phrases like "lasso the moon."  I don't believe in the kind of love that keeps people together for years on end until they're rocking side-by-side simultaneously and smiling parentally at the great-grandchildren. 

 

Some people say this makes me depressingly cynical.  I like to think it makes me realistic.  Or, at least, I did like to think it makes me realistic.

 

Now, I'm starting to believe that whole "depressingly cynical" psychoanalysis.  Why, you ask?  Because, for the first time in my pathetic, academically-driven little life, I have an example of twitterpation that appears to be slowly growing wings.  I've finally gotten the opportunity to watch two people attempt to lasso the moon.

 

See, AJ and Taylor think they're in love.  That's not the surprising thing, though.  I've been sensing the sexual tension between those two ever since AJ replaced large glasses of Jack Daniels with large doses of decent conversation.

 

The surprising thing is that I think they're in love.  And remember, I don't believe in love.

 

Taylor and AJ are a contradiction, though.  They have that "lasso the moon" mindset.  They're the kind of couple that speaks in unison.  They finish each other's sentences.  They argue a lot, but they eventually end up laughing at each other and forget what they were angry about.

 

Taylor and AJ are the kind of couple that sits side-by-side and still feels the need to hold hands.  Maybe it's because the relationship is still relatively new, but they touch and tease and occasionally kiss in public.  Not enough to send surrounding company running for the bathroom, though.  Surprisingly enough, the supposedly sex-addicted Backstreet Boy is relatively conservative when it comes to PDA.

 

They feed each other.  They hold each other.  Their eyes sparkle when they talk about each other in that ridiculous, cliche, pathetically chick-flick fashion.  They even lie next to each other on the living room couch, in the dark, and talk about the meaning of life.

 

The cutest thing about AJ and Taylor, though, is the fact that, despite their current state of coupledom, they're still AJ and Taylor; two individuals who happen to work really fucking well together.  They get annoying every now and then, but they're generally an addicting pair of people despite their obvious affinity for a fairy tale ending.  They really, honestly believe that they're meant for each other, and only each other.  And, much to my chagrin, it's actually kind of cute.  Cute enough that I want to believe in true love.  Cute enough that I've decided to remedy my original statement.

 

I almost believe in love.  Almost.

 

But I definitely don't believe that love is meant for me.