The short answer:

Don’t ask me.

The long answer:

I have never been to Liechtenstein. I’ve heard a bit about it, yes, such as the fact that its capital is Vaduz, or that it’s one of only two doubly landlocked countries in the world, or that it has more companies than citizens. But I’ve never been there, nor have I ever met anyone who has been there. But I still believe it exists.

Sometimes when it’s late and I am thinking particularly nonsensical thoughts, I wonder whether I should believe in Liechtenstein, because frankly, it sounds made up. Maybe someone once decided to start a little rumor about the existence of some tiny country that no one had ever heard of, and somehow things just got out of hand. But then I think, no, that’s ridiculous. Even though I have no concrete evidence that Liechtenstein actually exists, surely it does. I mean, come on.

And sometimes I feel the same way about love. Does love exist? I don’t think I’ve ever been in love, nor are any of my closest friends in love. Of course, I’ve known people who have supposedly been in love, but I’ve never asked them about it. In any case, I’ve heard that people can’t really describe it anyway. Maybe it doesn’t exist. Maybe it all started as a silly rumor, and there isn’t really such a thing as love, but people have just convinced themselves that there is.

But come on.

They say that even if you’ve had no experience with love, once you find yourself in it or falling in it, you’ll know. Is that true? For instance, I guess I’d say I love my family, but I’ve never really thought about it. Certainly I like my family at least some of the time, but is it love? I also like cream cheese some of the time (probably more than I do my family), but I wouldn’t say I love it. Maybe I only say I love my family because I know that people should love their families. But if I’m not even sure I love my family, how can I really know if I’m ever in love?

Once in tenth grade, my English class was reading “Araby” from Dubliners, and at one point the teacher asked us to discuss the main character’s feelings of love. When there wasn’t a response, he continued, “Well, I guess that means I have to ask a really… terrible question, which is, have you ever been in love?” Sadly, my tactic of appearing appropriately disinterested failed me, as he called on me for a response. I didn’t have one, so I shrugged. Apparently this was satisfactory, since he didn’t press the issue.

Sometimes I wonder whether it was a reasonable response or not. Maybe I’ll never have a more appropriate response than a shrug. I mean, I don’t think I’ve ever been in love. I’ve had crushes and infatuations, but I’ve heard those aren’t really love. So if one day I ever find myself in love, will I know it? It’s not like someone will be able to tell me. And they say that love can be tricky sometimes, that you might think you’re in love when you really aren’t. Frankly, it all seems a little suspicious. Maybe there’s really no such thing as love.

But come on.

The romantic in me wants to fall in love, of course, if only to find out what all the fuss is about. And there is a lot of fuss. Basically every story ever told (except Seinfeld) is about love. Everyone talks about it, but no one knows exactly what it is. It’s like some big secret that somehow everyone knows about. Well, everyone but me.

My philosophy with respect to finding love has always been, let it come to me. After all, I’ve heard that love comes when you least expect it, so why go searching for it? But maybe that’s not true, and that’s why I haven’t discovered it yet. Luckily, I’ve still got plenty of years left to devote to the (snipe?) hunt, so maybe there’s hope for me yet. Maybe I’ll learn that all it takes to really believe in love is a little effort and a little faith. And maybe in a few years time, I’ll find myself twirling through a garden somewhere in Liechtenstein just before midnight, singing to myself, “So this is love, mmmmmmmm, so this is love…”

But come on.

Cheers,
-qm