Young Love. Nothing More, Nothing Less.
by Ruth Hodge www.ruth-ellen.com
There's a young couple sitting outside at a small little table. Their knees are so close to touching, and you can tell as they toy awkwardly with their words and their hands fiddle solitarily in their laps that they're on a date. She leans in to listen as he starts to talk about something that he is passionate about and then backs away, head down, eyes curtained by a rogue curl that has been swept away countless times throughout the rendezvous. She's nervous and that's shown in her quietness. He's nervous and that's shown in his misplaced vivacity.
I'm sitting at the window inside like LB Jefferies, watching on, amusing myself with the little narrative that my brain has pieced together from seeing them to and fro between complete ease and comfortability to the strongest case of nerves. When I sat down at this café I had nothing particularly on my mind that I wanted to write about. But behind my screen they sat, and the energy between them sparked my interest. Call me a voyeur. Call me a dominos family pizza deal and have it delivered to my house.
I've always thought the phrase "young love" was to do with the age of the respective individuals. I see younger kids flirt and toy with the idea between each other - this feeling unable to be quashed by older, mature and seasoned thought (or overthought). But I'm coming to learn that regardless of age, young love is the stage in a relationship. It's the love that is young. And it's pretty cute. There's a youthful vivacity to it, a real urgency and then all at the same time it is slow, unsure, respectful. You're not sure what to share with them, and what not to share, knowing full well the decision will ultimately determine if you end up sharing everything. It's a gross contradiction that I am, myself, so uncomfortable with. So I tend to, in a non-creepy way, watch. Hoping maybe I'll learn something.
And now I'm done with that thought, the couple have left and another sits in the same spot. I can tell, just by glancing, that they're well seasoned lovers. Does that sound like I'm talking about some rib eye steak of a beautiful roast chicken (had to reference food....again)? He orders drinks whilst she sits down. He returns with a juice and she sips on it. He responds to her juice moustache by wiping it from her face with his thumb. They've probably washed and folded each others' underwear. You can just tell. It's that air of not really actively saying "I care about you, I love you, I think you're a spunk" but rather showing it, very casually, without any hesitation though without the intensity of younger lovers. No grand gestures. Just buying her coffee. Just giving her a napkin without her uttering any need of one. Just knowing.
