A Beginner’s Love

 

Let’s Start at the Beginning

Want to know how can you be a good partner and find success in love?

Here’s a hint: it might be simpler than you think.

The truth is, there’s really no secret formula to being a good partner or being good in a relationship. All are capable of being such, and all probably have been at one time or another. It’s just the consistency that’s hard.

But, if you want to be better partner, or to be better in a relationship, take my advice: go back to the beginning.

Continue reading “A Beginner’s Love”

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Thank You for Saying YES

Thank You

Thanks you for saying yes.

Maybe none of you said it in capital letters, but I thank you all the same. None of you had to say yes, but you did, and I’m really thankful for that.

I don’t take a single bit of it for granted, and that’s why I wanted to take some time to express my gratitude to all the women in my life who have previously said yes to me; in particular, to those of you who I’ve been honored to call my girlfriends or my wife.

I’ve not only wanted to say those things to you for a long time, but I wanted to write my own thank you letter to all of you because I’ve seen too many other letters out there that just don’t add up to my thoughts on love or any of you. You’ve probably seen them all too, you know, the articles out there that thank people for saying NO, or that thank people for breaking up with them, or that thank people for letting them go. They’re all so depressing and negative in tone I feel, and it seems as if they only serve to boost the self-esteem of the person writing them so that they might feel better off afterwards.

And that’s why I’m writing my own letter to you, because I wanted my letter to you to be different. I wanted my letter to be positive, because I don’t feel like I’m better off without any of you, I feel like I’m better off having had each of you in my life.

So again, I thank you. Continue reading “Thank You for Saying YES”

Lauren: Part 2

“I wish I could call you. I wish you were still around.”

Those were the words I heard coming out of my car’s speakers the last time I passed her house.

My Spotify was on shuffle. I had not choose the song. I had not planned to go by her house. I was just on my way somewhere else, and where she lived happened to be along the way – the way she had taught me – to where I was headed. It was all totally random. Totally coincidental. But it didn’t feel like it.

It felt like Spotify was being a dirty, dirty bitch. That’s what it felt like. I didn’t even realize what song was playing on my stereo until that exact moment when I passed her house. I was just day dreaming, enjoying my drive, and then I heard those words. When I did, I looked right, and her house was directly alined with my car. “Motherfucker,” is what I probably mumbled next, half-chuckling at the incredible life fuck I just received.

You can always count on the good ole capital B life.

Wait; shit, my bad. This is all near the end of the story about her. I’m an asshole. Let me rewind a bit and tell you what happened after that first night with her before you all mutiny me. Although, you really should’ve guessed where this story was headed if you’re any good at being a pretend detective.


 

If things we’re only as simple as one night.

If all you needed was a feeling to make everything all right and to never have to worry about anything ever again. If all you needed was somebody. If all somebody else needed was you. Man, life would be awesome if all that were true. Unfortunately, life isn’t that simple. It’s a category-5 shit storm that teaches the best of us that we’re never fully in control; life is.

It’s just life.

Goddamn I’d give anything to be back in that redneck campground with her. Just living in that moment. Having everything be so simple again. Having everything I ever wanted back again.

My heart screams for her just thinking about it. (My heart feels like it gets stabbed every time I edit this and have to look at her picture again.)

It didn’t end after that one night though if that’s what you’re thinking. Fuck, if that would’ve been the case, and had she disappeared or something like that afterwards, I probably would’ve spent the rest of my life looking for her.

I’m not sure what happened next is any better.

You see, timing is everything my friends, and our relationship in the months that followed, that followed that amazing moment with her, the moment that changed my life, was a mix of the most amazing feelings and the most debilitating feelings all at the same time. Lauren was as hard to love as she was as easy to want.

You see, when we met Lauren wasn’t yet 21, so she had all sorts of ideas and plans and experiences yet to be had. Things I was never intended to be a part of. And even though love shouldn’t have been an obstacle to all that, it (I) was.

I knew this, because I too had just come out of a similar phase in my own life when I met her. Spending almost my entire undergrad experience in college being wild and crazy and void of responsibilities so that I could get whatever it was out of my system in order to be able to move forward.

So even though her circumstances were different, I knew there was a good chance she would eventually have to be set free in order for her to find any absolution in her life as well.

For her to choose me, like I had no choice but to choose her.

And I really didn’t have a choice. Not after that first night.

After that first night with her I was infatuated. I couldn’t stop thinking about her. I didn’t want anything else but her. Everything about her awakened something new within me. The music she listened to was like discovering what songs had been playing in my head for years, the things she did (hiking, exploring, giving, etc.) were all the simple things I had forgotten how to do, and the way she looked at life was so innocent and beautiful that I found my soul begging to let go of my own artificial existence to join hers.

Even her body was the most attractive body I have ever seen. In fact, she was the only women I’ve ever been with that I can honestly say I never even thought of looking at another women when I was with her. She was the epitome of attraction to me. Not because I’d never seen or been with a woman who on ‘paper’ or in photos wasn’t prettier (I mean I already said that it wasn’t love at first sight), but because of all that she made me feel. And that’s just it, she made me feel. That statement probably says more about her than anything else. She stirred things inside me that I’ll never be able to explain, and that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to replicate.

But, despite all that, the situation with her was what it was: it was not perfect timing. I’d realized the hard way that certain plans just have no way of not being a distraction if you don’t see them through, so even though I wasn’t sure what her future plans had held in them, I knew they were going to be plans without me in them.

To paint a better picture of our relationship for you: it was very much so a roller coaster of love. It was really real at times, but even during the best of times we had together, times when the energy between us felt like it could spontaneously combust at any moment, she would frequently stop it all and say stuff like, “This can’t be real.” Saying, in effect, that this couldn’t possibly be “it”; that it couldn’t possibly be the end of her road when she had yet to travel. Or, she would stop and say something like, “How are you doing that?” Effectively saying that she too couldn’t comprehend what she was feeling, or how to deal with it, but that she just wasn’t at a time and a place in her life where she could allow those things she was experiencing to solidify and become a part of her life either.

Man, to be the barrier to everything you could have ever hoped for in life, that is a unique feeling. To have everything you ever wanted right there in front of you and to have it want you back but not be able to give all of it to you completely, at least maybe not until you are out of the picture, that is a motherfucker.

Despite all this reinforcing what I already knew though, I still tried to make it work for a long time and allow myself the idea that I could just put up with only receiving a fraction of what was there in order to have those rare moments together when she forgot I wasn’t a part of her plans and gave into it all. It was almost worth it too.

Eventually though, I had to do what had to be done. I had to love her by letting her go.

Some say that is the greatest form of love. But letting everything I’d ever wanted go, everything I honestly could have never even imagined go, in hopes that it would one day return, that was the hardest thing I have ever had to deal with in my life, and that’s saying something.

But before I go on though, I want to make sure I tell the whole story of her, so I want to stop here and say that decision wasn’t totally of my own doing, and that I was nudged a bit towards making that decision by someone else.

Right as I was debating whether or not to go forward with this decision of letting her go, one of her best friends told me that Lauren herself had told her that she was thinking of ending it soon herself.

I’ve never really known if that’s true, partially because Lauren told me after I broke up with her that she would’ve never broken up with me, and partially because I later realized that same person who told me these things had an attraction to me (an attraction that she later tried to do something about) which I was unaware of beforehand, but regardless of whether it was true or not, being told that definitely forced my hand to move forward with that decision. Because if she would’ve been the one that ended it all, that would have altered the way I had envisioned everything going down, and how the fairy tale story of her eventually coming back to me would’ve unfurled.

So, I broke up with her.

 

An Open Letter to Everyone: I Want to Say I Love You

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I want to say, “I love you!”

That’s it, that’s all I really wanted to say.

But I can’t. Or I don’t.

I want to be able to shout it from atop a damn mountain.

I want to be able to say it to anyone, anywhere, anytime.

I want to be able to say the phrase that’s associated with the warm bubbly feeling we feel deep inside.

I want to be able to say the one thing that comes the closest to all those inexplicable feelings I have.

I want to say I love you.

But, I feel like as a society, we act as if “I love you” is reserved only for those who we are deeply, madly in love with.

If this is the case, then why do I get that same feeling at so many other times?

Can’t “I love you” mean more than “I love you and only you, forever?”

Shouldn’t it be openly permissible to say?

After all, isn’t it a good thing to say?

So why can’t I say I love you?

Why does saying “I love you” feel like the most feared and socially unacceptable thing to say most of the time?

Yeah, how did that happen?

I thought love cured all. I thought love was the greatest gift of all. I thought we needed more love.

Yet, if I say ‘it’ to someone after only knowing them for a short time, people would argue that it is not actually love that I am feeling.

It’s like there is only one definition of love or it’s associated feelings. As if you can only use “I love you” in special circumstances.

So I ask again, do I have to be in love with someone to be able to to tell them that I love them?

If so, then why is it that sometimes when I encounter only a smidgen of someone’s being – their smile, their art, or their kindness – I get that same amazing feeling deep inside ?

Is that not love also?

It feels like it to me.

Why can’t I say I love you?

I want to say I love you.

Why did society teach me as a male to view saying “I love you” as weakness and mushy, gushy girly stuff?

And how is it that a woman can casually tell me that she loves me, but, I, as a man cannot?

Yeah, why all that?

Why, when I am open in caring and sharing, do I still hold back in telling people I love them for fear that they might not well receive it?

How did we get where we look at people weird for saying something so good?

I want to say I love you.

Are all those cliche ‘live, love, laugh’ home decor signs just bullshit?

I’m tired of being inauthentic to myself. I’m tired of holding back my feelings.

I want to say I love you.

So from now on I’m saying it, ok? I’m gonna fucking do it, and you can’t stop me.

From now I’m not going to stop myself from saying “I love you” . Because I do. And it really doesn’t matter why.

“I love you!”

If I Could Give You Anything, It Would Be French Toast, Sweet Potato Pie, and Being There.

It’s more than french toast, sweet potato pie, and being there.

Often times, people do things, or give things, to others in life that are more than just the object or the act presented to them. However, when someone does something for you, or gives something to you, it’s hard to know what exactly that something might mean without the context of having read their thoughts or lived their life first. Thereby, if you can make the effort to get to know someone else, you will always be given more than you ever would have otherwise.

Here’s a personal cheat sheet to understand what I mean by that.

Continue reading “If I Could Give You Anything, It Would Be French Toast, Sweet Potato Pie, and Being There.”

Love -N- Shit

This was my first attempt at writing and self expression years ago. Honestly, I didn’t even explore writing in such a way again until a few years after. I had no idea back then that this would be an indicator that I had found my voice, and that writing would later be something I enjoyed and pursued when I found the time. Enjoy! 


Love – N – Shit

After wiping my nose this morning with some toilet paper, I found myself looking at the remaining roll of toilet paper. There were only a couple squares left and I knew the next event in the bathroom would bring about the inevitable, oh-so-cautious, usage of the last pieces of T.P. However, at that moment, instead of thinking about how I was going to go about replenishing my supplies, I had a typical me moment of random, deep wondering. I said to myself, “What if we used or cherished love like it was the last piece of T.P.?”

Continue reading “Love -N- Shit”

The Little Things: What I Miss The Most About Married Life

I’m not going to start this post by going into great detail about my past marriage. There’s plenty I have already, or will eventually, write about it just because it’s part of who I am now. I will say though that none of it’s a sad, tragic, or bad story. It’s just life. That being said, as true and as understated as that is, there are plenty of things that I want to say about what I miss the most about married life now. So, here yah go…

Co-pilot

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Ok, maybe my ex wife’s role was more driving assistant than co-pilot (I planned most of our activities to a T), but damn if I don’t miss having a co-rider in the car.

Besides just having someone else’s company in the car, it’s a real struggle for me to eat and drive at the same time. I spill shit on myself and my car’s interior frequently, and a lot of times my food is just too far for me to reach. But my stomach and my taste buds never seem to wait until the next pit stop. I’m always hungry, and I even pre-eat before any activity just in case there isn’t enough food there for my ridiculous metabolism. Therefore, I need to be fed like a baby while I run the roads.

If I had a co-pilot again, I’d even let the hypothetical her actually eat some of my food this time around, maybe.

Continue reading “The Little Things: What I Miss The Most About Married Life”