Are You In Lust Or Love?

Sometimes I’m thinking that I love you/But I know it’s only lust. —Gang of Four

Think about it—they’re both four-letter words, both start with the letter “L,” and both can cause us to completely lose our freakin’ minds … it’s no wonder we get lust confused with love. But despite their similarities, love and lust are two very different animals. True, lust can evolve into love, and if you love someone, you (hopefully) lust after them, but it’s also very easy to fall deeply in lust with someone whom you’re never going to fall in love with. Here’s a handy guide for discerning the difference …

Being in lust is like being on some crazy drug nobody’s figured out how to make yet. All you can think about are the myriad—possibly criminal in some conservative states—sex acts you’re going to perform together when you’re finally alone. In addition to wanting to try out naked yoga partner pilates, you’re also wondering if he’s up for meeting your friends this weekend.
You’re positive it begins with a “B” and involves some other consonants and a vowel or two, but you can’t quite remember his last name… You not only know his surname, you know how it used to be spelled before bureaucrats at Ellis Island hacked it up and “Americanized” it. You also may have regressed to sixth grade at one point and tried writing it out with your first name in front—hearts dotting the “I”’s optional.
Sometimes when he’s talking to you, you wish he’d just shut up and take off his pants already. While you too prefer him pants-free, you also find him breathtakingly smart and hilarious as well.
You rarely spend any time together fully clothed, in the company of others, or speaking in complete sentences. (Grunts and moans don’t count.) You can’t wait for your friends and family to meet him.
Your friends run into you together and give you a high-five. Your friends not only give you a high-five, you get a call the next day wondering if he has any brothers.
When friends ask about him, all you can talk about is the curve of his butt. When friends ask you about him, you notice that after about a half hour spent describing all his amazing traits, all but one of your girls have fallen asleep and her eyes are rolling so hard it looks painful.
His bacne was totally skeeving you out so you ask him to come back after he’s had a visit with the dermo. You pop his zits for him like a monkey mama.
Sex: it’s all about you. Sex: you want to give as good as you get.
When you see him, or think about him, you get a jolt. You also feel a jolt, but it’s above your waistline as well as below.
You want to explore every inch of his fanfreakingtastic body. You’re also interested in his brain, his beliefs, his family, his friends, what he looked like as a little kid, his favorite foods, what super power he’d pick if he could have just one, where he got that scar on his left ankle, what he had for dinner last night, where he was born, what his major in college was, and where he sees himself in 20 years.
You could easily spend an entire weekend in bed with him. True too, but during your weekend with him there’s also talking involved. (At least a little.)