The Ink Well (and everything to do with forever)

Nothing good lasts forever, or, so they say. For this reason, love is sometimes described as a flower which blooms, wilts, and, if you're going to get really poetic about it and you happen to be a believer in lasting love, you may also allude to the ability to press them and keep them long after they've died.

What I was thinking today, however, is that maybe the myth of eternal love is more like an ink pen. In the beginning you have to give it a push by dragging it around to get it going, then suddenly you have a nice, satisfying black flow that can carry you along silky smooth for months; maybe longer if you're lucky. But, in the end, it doesn't matter how much you "work at it" or promise pen fidelity, because when the line starts getting dry, you can bet your buttons you'll be reaching for the newer model and the one in your hand has its days numbered.

These stubbornly pessimistic thoughts have a habit of ruining otherwise perfectly good evenings with TMI. We've been discussing efforts to get me back to France after Christmas in Hawaii and getting an apartment together. ..An incredibly elating thought, and yet the sacrifice would be my friends and my family. Placing myself scquarely opposite on the globe from my nearest and dearest which have nothing to to with sex or ink and everything to do with forever.

But, on the other hand, friends fall in love and become less available as their significant other becomes more significant. The temptation to remain forever single could leave me lonely surrounded by friends in love.

I know the obvious solution simile: if you really like the pen, you can buy more ink. But what's the real life equivalent of the inkwell? Could something so idealistic possibly exist? And for something so uncertain, how can I ever really know if it's worth the sacrifice?