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I love him. Okay, I admitted it. At least to myself. Sure, other people know I like him, but love him? Doubtful (at least I hope so). I know most people think that he is unlovable, and I hate to admit it, but once in awhile, I agree. But most of me, the part that controls that damn butterfly-tingly feeling I get in my stomach that Foreman teased me about all those years ago? It is a sure sign that my feelings run deeper than a simple "Hey, let's go make-out in the women's changing room." I know I want more. I always have. I won't settle for anything less. At least not this time. He isn't Chase.
Yes, Chase and I have had sex, a no-strings attached relationship, friends with benefits, whatever you want to call it, a "thing." But that was then. And I learned from that. Those relationships don't work out. You need love to be in a relationship, or you are just two people screwing around like horny teenagers.
I want House and I to be above that. We have to be. I can't accept anything less this time. And no stupid dates where he tears me apart for his enjoyment. I am a real person. I have feelings. I think he might too. He keeps them hidden away somewhere in the deep recesses of his Grinch like heart, but they are there. Just mention his father and watch his reaction. It is a mixture of agony and hate.
That that is proof he is human. I just would like to see if he has nice feelings somewhere in that brilliant mind, and what I think may be a somewhat shrunken heart. I think I saw them with Stacey, and there may be a flash of them when he interacts with Wilson and Cuddy. But he enjoys making even them miserable most of the time. And of course there is the pleasure he got out of manipulating his new fellows over the past few months, getting them to vie for spots on his team, and them manipulating Cuddy to give him a third fellow opening by hiring only men. Maybe his name should have been "Cut-Throat Bitch", instead of that manipulative strawberry blonde who got canned.
This leaves me with a question, why the hell do I love him? Honestly, I am not sure myself. I am attracted to smart men, and he is brilliant; that is one check in his favor. On the other hand, he is so brilliant he is arrogant, which is not an attractive quality, but one I seemed to have been able to over look during the past four years and will probably be able to continue to do so. Also, he has a no-hands barred approach when it comes to treating patients. That is something I admire-- well, most of the time. When he makes bets on the outcome of patients' lives, I don't like it. Whether patients' live or die isn't a laughing matter. When, however, he treats patients with his often unconventional treatments, though it may be risky at times--okay, a lot of the time-- he does it for the right reason. To save them. The only time I have really risked my medical license was to kill a man. Somehow that doesn't seem the same, even if I was doing what the patient wanted. And of course there is his wit; he always has a smart remark. Some people find this insulting, I do too, but it is constant, and that is comforting in a way. Plus it is pretty damn funny at times, and it really livened up those differential diagnoses all three years. Some how I doubt I will be completely spared of them, even though I work in the ER now; he had plenty to say about my newly blonde hair after all.
Are those reasons enough to explain loving him? Does it prove the theory that love is blind? Maybe. I don't know, and frankly I don't care. It doesn't matter because I will continue to love him all the same, despite his faults and my "damage." Besides, whose business is it besides mine?