Love is clean?

"Love" and "purity" are words we often hear linked. But "love" and "clean"? When my roommate told me "love is clean," she was talking about our home; loving our home means maintaining its cleanliness. But is that where it ends? The sentence has stuck with me. As I move forward in life every day, I find myself in messy romantic circumstances. Which brings me to apply this quote and question myself and the lovers in my life. I have always been of the firm belief that messy and clean are not inherent opposites. I used to claim this vehemently because I used to be extremely messy in my home life. Those who knew me in my teen years can tell you that I lived in piles of clothing and books and jewelry and nail polish and journals. My dad used to joke (and crack himself up, of course) that my room was a hazardous waste zone (a recycling administrator's humor). Much like my life now, except that now my mounds of clothing hang neatly on hot pink hangers, my jewelry in little colorful bowls from the 99cent store, my nail polish in a canvas bag designated for all things manicure-related, and my books and journals line my window sills and press heavily down on a small bookshelf that sits outside my door. The act of organizing these things for me now translates into loving these things and loving my home.

So back to people: is love clean? If love is dirty, if love hurts, if love is hard and complicated and the lines are blurry and fuzzy, is it not still love? And if the answer is yes, it is still love, now I must ask: which type of love is to be desired? But maybe this is the wrong paradigm all together. Maybe what I need to ask is: which type of love helps me grow? I have to admit, though I'm afraid to face the fact, that the answer feels a little filthy.