Thoughts about Comfort and Adventure
I have always hated Comfort. It was the enemy of Adventure, I had thought. I was wrong.
My friends, the other two-thirds of the DMBFCKS, got married last weekend. I flew in for their wedding and visited their home for the first time. A Christmas tree wrapped in yellow lights greeted me as I stepped into their home. A wreath sat above the fireplace. The living room was scented with the smell of pine and warmed by the burning wood. As usual, we entered into conversation. They sat across from me, her head in his lap, as we caught each other up on our lives, laughter being the glue that connected one second to the next. My eyes took in all of the sights and I breathed in the feeling. I breathed it all in. Comfort. For once in a long time, I did not grimace at the word.
Here was a Comfort that was earned, one built as a refuge for a love they bet their lives on despite the uncertainty and discomfort. Here was a Comfort they had worked so hard in achieving, a Comfort they had only dreamed of as they were separated by many impossibilities. The Comfort in front of me, even in its stillest moments, will always be a passionate love that burns of Adventure because Adventure is what it was founded on.
It reminded me of a flame I had once lit for a past Adventure. But that flame, that old Comfort I had, betrayed me. I grew bitter and accused Comfort of being a lie, a fraud. “Never again,” I declared, blowing out the flame I once cared for.
Since then, I have offered Adventure without Comfort to every girl that I liked. Outrunning daybreak in Barcelona, splashing water in the Seine under Parisian skies, hiding from the sun on the Upper West Side during a New York summer, promises of endless travel through exotic Asian landscapes, the list goes on. But by banishing Comfort from my life, I had doomed myself of any genuine chance at Love. Even the greatest of adventures require rest and peace. Even Ulysses needed to get home. Adventure without Comfort is like traveling the world without a place to sleep. You grow tired after a while. And surely enough, they did too.
So Comfort, I want you back in my life. No longer do I want a home designed to be vacated. No longer do I want to seek experiences destined to explode into a million little fragments of irreparable memories. Rather, I want a love like my two friends, far from boring, full of Adventure and yet proudly comfortable. I want to put up a Christmas tree with a lover and sit by the fire with hot cocoa warming our insides on a chilly, winter’s day, her head on my lap, trusting I won’t fall out from under her at any time. I want to build a place of refuge for after Adventures and before the next Adventure takes us on our way. I want peace. I want love. I want Comfort.
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