TITLE: When It Comes to Love
AUTHOR: Liv
RATING: PG
FEEDBACK: Please?
CLASSIFICATION: Olivia/Elliot friendship UST
SPOILERS: Nothing major...small ones for "Closure" and "Contact", both season 1
DISTRUBUTION STATEMENT: If anyone is so inclined to post this anywhere, let me know about it first...I promise you'll get the green light...and I'll be flattered
SUMMARY: Olivia muses on her love life
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This just came to me, I'm not sure why so I figured I'd share :o)
DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the characters on SVU, I'm only playing with them for the time being and will return them in one piece...I promise. ***********************************************************************
My name is Olivia Benson and I am an idiot when it comes to love.
When I was seventeen, I fell hopelessly in love with a 37 year-old married stockbroker. At the time, I foolishly believed his mantra, "I'm leaving my wife soon. Then we'll be together." I realize now that he got exactly what he wanted from our relationship—no strings attached sex. I remember thinking how lucky I was to have found such a great guy that loved me for who I was and actually wanted to spend time with me. It was strange to be wanted in that way.
My mother always made it abundantly clear that I was little more than a nuisance to have around. She constantly reminded me about how she had gotten saddled down with a child after being violated—that is, when she was sober enough to actually form coherent sentences. I guess that I pretty much followed in her footsteps when it comes to the "love and other personal relationships" department, with one stark exception—I don't sleep with men for the sake of sleeping with men. I will never have to consider installing a revolving door in my bedroom or hear the whispers as I pass the neighbors in the hallway. Although a great deal alike, my mother and I are very different.
The next moronic love-related choice I made was believing that I was in love with Andy Eckerson when I was 24. At first, it seemed like we were made for each other. We understood each other's devotion to the job which made for far fewer headaches when a date had to be cancelled due to an emergency. The sex was amazing. I'd never before had a partner that could push my buttons like Andy. He always knew exactly what I wanted, hell, *needed* from him. It was because of his encouragement that I embraced my sexuality and opened up to trying new sexual practices. After a few months of mind-blowing sex, it became obvious that the physical part of the relationship was all that was really there. When we weren't screwing like rabbits, we had absolutely nothing to talk about. It eventually got to the point that really began to wonder if I'd be able to recognize him with his clothes on—that's when I knew it was over. I think that in my heart I knew that it couldn't truly be over because it never really began. Andy and I never really took the time to get to know one another before jumping in the sack. Who knows what might have happened if we'd done it the right way...
The worst moment in my professional career was when I made the choice to sleep with Brian Cassidy. Don't get me wrong, the sex was good, but the aftermath was a nightmare. In retrospect, I guess I was pretty cold when I told him that I didn't want a relationship with him and he didn't deserve that at all. I was so angry with myself for letting my hormones get the best of me that I took it out on him. I didn't realize how much emotion I carry on my face until Elliot called me on sleeping with Cassidy. I was so shocked that I'm pretty sure my jaw hit the ground when he asked me how *long* I'd been sleeping with Cassidy—not even *if* I was sleeping with him. I remember thinking to myself that I really needed to work on not allowing my personal relationships to enter the workplace. I did a pretty good job for a while...
I, Olivia Benson, idiot when it comes to relationships, realized just how bad things had gotten when I was dating that reporter, Nick Ganzner. You would think that *I* of all people, detective in the Special Victims Unit, would be able to smell a perv a mile away. Nope. Instead, I invite this winner to my apartment with the full intention of getting laid only to find out that he is no better than the scum I fight to get off the street every day. That was an eye-opening experience. Suddenly, I found myself turned off to the idea of ever dating again. And, thankfully, for the next few years, my job made the probability of actually getting out on a date, next to nothing.
On the rare occasion that I actually have a night off, I usually find myself at a loss when it comes to finding something to do. A lot of times, I find myself alone with my thoughts on a night a lot like tonight. It was on just such a night that I realized that I really am a moron when it comes to love and here's why: I'm head-over-heels, crazy in love with a man that I can never have. First off, he's happily married—has been for twenty years now. Did I mention that he has kids? Yeah, he's got a couple of them too. Oh, and he's been my best friend for the past six years now and the final catch—he's my partner. My. Partner. This kind of thing is only supposed to happen in the movies, right? Who in the hell ever thought something like this could ever happen in the real world? It seems to me that whoever is writing the script for my life decided it would be a blast to play this card and see just how nuts I can go. I mean, it would be bad enough if I fell in love with say, Munch. I work with the guy and see him every single day, and that would be weird enough but no. *I* fall in love with my partner, whom I spend almost every waking moment with, who's my best friend and who knows when a case has pushed me to my breaking point just by looking at me. He's a devoted husband and father and the best man I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. Goddamn my luck. Now, I spend my days sitting across from a man who I would like nothing more than to jump over my desk and kiss and tell that I love him. That is torture. Pure, unadulterated hell even. There have been times where, if I hadn't caught myself, I'd be out on the street looking for a new partner, probably in a new precinct in a new town, in a new state. That's how far I'd have to go to get away from the trouble I'd cause.
If *this* doesn't prove how completely inept I am when it comes to love, I honestly don't know what does. Maybe one day, I'll get this whole love bit right, but I'm not going to hold my breath. After all, my name *is* Olivia Benson and I *am* an idiot when it comes to love.
AUTHOR: Liv
RATING: PG
FEEDBACK: Please?
CLASSIFICATION: Olivia/Elliot friendship UST
SPOILERS: Nothing major...small ones for "Closure" and "Contact", both season 1
DISTRUBUTION STATEMENT: If anyone is so inclined to post this anywhere, let me know about it first...I promise you'll get the green light...and I'll be flattered
SUMMARY: Olivia muses on her love life
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This just came to me, I'm not sure why so I figured I'd share :o)
DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the characters on SVU, I'm only playing with them for the time being and will return them in one piece...I promise. ***********************************************************************
My name is Olivia Benson and I am an idiot when it comes to love.
When I was seventeen, I fell hopelessly in love with a 37 year-old married stockbroker. At the time, I foolishly believed his mantra, "I'm leaving my wife soon. Then we'll be together." I realize now that he got exactly what he wanted from our relationship—no strings attached sex. I remember thinking how lucky I was to have found such a great guy that loved me for who I was and actually wanted to spend time with me. It was strange to be wanted in that way.
My mother always made it abundantly clear that I was little more than a nuisance to have around. She constantly reminded me about how she had gotten saddled down with a child after being violated—that is, when she was sober enough to actually form coherent sentences. I guess that I pretty much followed in her footsteps when it comes to the "love and other personal relationships" department, with one stark exception—I don't sleep with men for the sake of sleeping with men. I will never have to consider installing a revolving door in my bedroom or hear the whispers as I pass the neighbors in the hallway. Although a great deal alike, my mother and I are very different.
The next moronic love-related choice I made was believing that I was in love with Andy Eckerson when I was 24. At first, it seemed like we were made for each other. We understood each other's devotion to the job which made for far fewer headaches when a date had to be cancelled due to an emergency. The sex was amazing. I'd never before had a partner that could push my buttons like Andy. He always knew exactly what I wanted, hell, *needed* from him. It was because of his encouragement that I embraced my sexuality and opened up to trying new sexual practices. After a few months of mind-blowing sex, it became obvious that the physical part of the relationship was all that was really there. When we weren't screwing like rabbits, we had absolutely nothing to talk about. It eventually got to the point that really began to wonder if I'd be able to recognize him with his clothes on—that's when I knew it was over. I think that in my heart I knew that it couldn't truly be over because it never really began. Andy and I never really took the time to get to know one another before jumping in the sack. Who knows what might have happened if we'd done it the right way...
The worst moment in my professional career was when I made the choice to sleep with Brian Cassidy. Don't get me wrong, the sex was good, but the aftermath was a nightmare. In retrospect, I guess I was pretty cold when I told him that I didn't want a relationship with him and he didn't deserve that at all. I was so angry with myself for letting my hormones get the best of me that I took it out on him. I didn't realize how much emotion I carry on my face until Elliot called me on sleeping with Cassidy. I was so shocked that I'm pretty sure my jaw hit the ground when he asked me how *long* I'd been sleeping with Cassidy—not even *if* I was sleeping with him. I remember thinking to myself that I really needed to work on not allowing my personal relationships to enter the workplace. I did a pretty good job for a while...
I, Olivia Benson, idiot when it comes to relationships, realized just how bad things had gotten when I was dating that reporter, Nick Ganzner. You would think that *I* of all people, detective in the Special Victims Unit, would be able to smell a perv a mile away. Nope. Instead, I invite this winner to my apartment with the full intention of getting laid only to find out that he is no better than the scum I fight to get off the street every day. That was an eye-opening experience. Suddenly, I found myself turned off to the idea of ever dating again. And, thankfully, for the next few years, my job made the probability of actually getting out on a date, next to nothing.
On the rare occasion that I actually have a night off, I usually find myself at a loss when it comes to finding something to do. A lot of times, I find myself alone with my thoughts on a night a lot like tonight. It was on just such a night that I realized that I really am a moron when it comes to love and here's why: I'm head-over-heels, crazy in love with a man that I can never have. First off, he's happily married—has been for twenty years now. Did I mention that he has kids? Yeah, he's got a couple of them too. Oh, and he's been my best friend for the past six years now and the final catch—he's my partner. My. Partner. This kind of thing is only supposed to happen in the movies, right? Who in the hell ever thought something like this could ever happen in the real world? It seems to me that whoever is writing the script for my life decided it would be a blast to play this card and see just how nuts I can go. I mean, it would be bad enough if I fell in love with say, Munch. I work with the guy and see him every single day, and that would be weird enough but no. *I* fall in love with my partner, whom I spend almost every waking moment with, who's my best friend and who knows when a case has pushed me to my breaking point just by looking at me. He's a devoted husband and father and the best man I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. Goddamn my luck. Now, I spend my days sitting across from a man who I would like nothing more than to jump over my desk and kiss and tell that I love him. That is torture. Pure, unadulterated hell even. There have been times where, if I hadn't caught myself, I'd be out on the street looking for a new partner, probably in a new precinct in a new town, in a new state. That's how far I'd have to go to get away from the trouble I'd cause.
If *this* doesn't prove how completely inept I am when it comes to love, I honestly don't know what does. Maybe one day, I'll get this whole love bit right, but I'm not going to hold my breath. After all, my name *is* Olivia Benson and I *am* an idiot when it comes to love.