Category: love

What if it was supposed to be me?

Harvey Milk said:

“Go after her. Fuck, don’t sit there and wait for her to call, go after her because that’s what you should do if you love someone, don’t wait for them to give you a sign cause it might never come, don’t let people happen to you, don’t let me happen to you, or her, she’s not a fucking television show or tornado. There are people I might have loved had they gotten on the airplane or run down the street after me or called me up drunk at four in the morning because they need to tell me right now and because they cannot regret this and I always thought I’d be the only one doing crazy things for people who would never give enough of a fuck to do it back or to act like idiots or be entirely vulnerable and honest and making someone fall in love with you is easy and flying 3000 miles on four days notice because you can’t just sit there and do nothing and breathe into telephones is not everyone’s idea of love but it is the way I can recognize it because that is what I do. Go scream it and be with her in meaningful ways because that is beautiful and that is generous and that is what loving someone is, that is raw and that is unguarded, and that is all that is worth anything, really.”

Sometimes I wonder what if I tried one more time?

What if I told you that I was sorry?

What if I told you that I missed you every second of every day (and even the intervals between seconds), that I loved you so much that sometimes I just didn’t even notice it, not like an afterthought, but because it was that much a part of me, it was just a part of my existence, like breathing. ?

You were necessary like breathing to me.

What if I showed up one more time? What if I looked into your eyes one more time?

I am forgetting what your voice sounds like.

I am forgetting what your laugh sounds like.

I looked up one of your social media accounts.

I saw you with your new girlfriend.

You love her so much, you wrote.

You love her family as well.

She’s supportive and kind and crazy about you.

And that’s all good and well. It really is.

But I can’t shake the fact that I should’ve been the one holding your hand forever.

What if it was supposed to be me?

–S.

The Light is Leaving their Eyes.

I’m an old fashioned fool when it comes to love.

What I mean by that is – I’d prefer to bump into your cart at the grocery store in the produce section while I’m picking out lettuce – not on Tinder or Plenty of Fish.

That seems to not be the way of the world anymore and it makes it harder for old school fools like me.

Currently: Still waiting at the grocery store for my husband to show up.

Most of my friends are in relationships, married, and/or have kids. Or some combination of that.

The friends who are not in a relationship – are on some form of online dating application.

And from what I’ve been able to gather from their stories over the years – it’s awful.

It goes a little something like this.

The flame is ignited, the wax slowly making its way up and down the sides of the candle.

He lives with his parents right now, but he’s in school. He loves his dog, they’re best friends. A super adorable labradoodle.

He’s working two jobs, such a hard-worker. Saving up to buy a house.

He’s a military vet, currently working towards becoming a police officer.

He’s 30, no kids, a miracle right?

He’s been responding with pretty long messages. The conversation seems to be flowing.

He actually wants to know things about me, hasn’t mentioned sex at all.

The bits and pieces of men you’ve never met intrigue you until you find the one that keeps your attention for longer than one conversation.

The candlelight glows hungrily in their eyes at this point – the ‘Could this really be it, possibly the one?’ Light.

Some meet instantly, others after weeks and months of conversation. Texting turns into phone calls that turn into video chats.

Sometimes you’re lucky to meet in a public place and you’re shocked that you’re actually on a date. Sometimes awkward, sometimes okay.

Sometimes you’re unfortunate and asked to meet at their place and you hesitate because you know this usually means they are only after one thing – sex.

Sometimes your luck is downright shitty shit and you’re asked to meet in a Walmart parking lot or something on the same level of WTF as that.

The flame burns, but it flickers. Not glowing as strongly as it did when your conversation first started – the fantasy in your head not living up to the reality.

The date was awkward and could have gone better, but some conversation is better than no conversation. Plus, aren’t most first dates awkward, anyway?

You really didn’t want to be the girl who has sex on the first night, but the intimacy of a physical human connection keeps your flame burning.

The parking lot is mostly empty, except for an RV Camper, an 18 – wheeler and two handfuls of late night shoppers and employees. Although you both have your own place and there are several places you can think of off the top of your head that you could have stopped into for a bite to eat or a drink that seem better than a Walmart parking lot, the potential that this could be something more propels you forward. Plus, the breeze in the still of the night, the glow coming off of the lights, and the cars zooming past you on the highway could sorta be seen as romantic, right? Right. Positive Thinking.

The flame doesn’t grow as brightly as it once did. We’re almost at the end of the candle.

He never calls or texts after the date. You dissect every second of it. Do you chew with your mouth open? Not that you can recall. Should you have worn the v-neck instead of the higher neckline? Do you look like your profile pictures? Maybe he was disappointed about that.

The conversation dies after the sex, but the sex continues. The only messages he sends now are sexual in nature and wondering when he can see you next to bed you again. You go anyway. Something is better than nothing and maybe the conversation will pick up again.

You’re in his car now, grateful that the parking lot is mostly deserted. While he’s running his hands down your body and grunting in your ear – you can’t help but recall that he never asked for your name. He doesn’t even know your name and he’s spilling himself all over your hand. He groans out an emotionless ‘baby.’ Any optimism or wishful thinking you were feeling dies in the moment he calls you ‘baby.’ And you think that you will never shop at a Walmart ever again.

The flame is dying, the light is leaving their eyes.

I wonder who is closer to love – is it me, hopeful while picking out lettuce or is it the girl with the message notification on her phone from 29 year-old Thomas who likes pina coladas and getting caught in the rain and thinks that’s still a catchy bio?

I don’t know the answer.

I’m just asking.

How do you know when you’re close to love?

How do you know when love has finally decided to pick you?

–S.

The Men I’ve Met.

For me, love, above all else, should inspire.

I haven’t met that man yet.

I’ve met the childish one that wants you to do everything for him.

I’ve met not ready, but plays with the idea of being ready.

I’ve met can’t talk about my feelings.

I’ve met unfaithful.

I’ve met blame everything on you.

I’ve met can’t have an adult conversation/argument without mentioning a break-up.

I’ve met childhood trauma that they haven’t healed from yet.

I’ve met you should’ve stayed the fuck away from me.

I’ve met the alcoholic.

I’ve met I’m just wasting your time until the next best thing comes along.

I’ve met I just want somebody – it doesn’t really matter if its you.

But I have YET to meet – because of my love, I inspire you, daily, to be a better you.

And that’s okay.

Did I mention I was 31, and that most days I feel like I don’t have a damn thing figured out.

Be patient.

Don’t rush it.

It’s coming.

–S.

Overnight Bags.

You make me happy.

I don’t know why I can’t just shut off my brain and keep my heart working instead.

Scientifically, because one cannot function without the other.

I want to be one in this happiness. I want to live in it.

I want to dwell in it, but my brain develops pictures of the future, and I can’t see you in them.

I’ve packed your bags, although you’ve just arrived.

They say what we love, we leave behind.

Maybe, I just won’t tell you that I love you.

–S.

As Deep as the Ocean.

My heart is heavy tonight because I realize that it may never happen again.

Not that I want it to, but I may never find another connection like the one that I have with my best friend who moved away.

Not that I’m searching, but we live in that kind of society now.

Maybe it’s the generation that I am a part of.

I went out to eat with someone today – which I don’t do often these days – and they seemed so disinterested in what I had to say.

I’d say things that I’d tell her.

I’d refer to things that she would know.

Only to find out what I already knew – that this person wasn’t her.

We like superficial things now. We interact with people at work. We interact with people at school. We interact with people at the grocery store. We interact with people at the drive-thru. But anything more than this – is simply too much for you to ask us to do.

It’s too deep.

Depth scares us.

If there is no depth, it’s easier for you to rid yourself of that person.

It breaks my heart that lifetime friendships are a rarity in this day and age.

We meet seasonal people – over and over again.

We all search for it.

Connections.

Our Heart – Our Soul – Our Spirit – Our Mind.

They all yearn to be connected to something. Not necessarily romantic in nature. But just simply the comfort of knowing that one day you might not have a god damn thing to say or won’t know how to say what you need to say and that person will understand completely.

For generations to come, I wish you friendships with the depth of an ocean.

–S.

A Texas Summer.

That summer, he shaved his beard off.

She cut her hair.

Running his hand through her short hair, he said ”I loved your long hair, why did you cut it?”

She laughed and said, ”I tried to cut you out of it,” with sad eyes.

And he stared at her – like he’d tried to cut her out of his beard, too.

–S.

I hope you find your love song.

At the end of the day – as much as I hate to say it – we are not meant for each other.

It would be unfortunate for us to force something that was never meant to be.

When love comes for me, I won’t have to enhance it by painting it more beautifully in my mind.

Love will paint me – in brighter colors, I will be born again.

Although it was never me, I hope you find whatever it is you’re searching for.

I wish your heart peace, and I hope you’re able to trust another with your heart.

Love is not meant to be a one-sided emotion. That’s why it hurts so much for many of us, you know? When you are in love together, that’s what the songs are about.

I know that music is very important to you – as it is for me.

So, I hope you find your love song. May it never lose its charm.

Each time you play it, may it bring you every last feeling and sensation that you felt the very first time you heard it.

–S.

Dreaming.

I dreamed that we could always be that close.

That I would always be the one that your heart desired, that it loved.

That we played together, that we laughed.

That when one of us was down, the other was always around to bring them up.

I dreamed of giving my virginity to you.

of you being the one for me, forever.

Just one. The first and the last.

I dreamed of you as the perfect husband and devoted father.

Affectionate.

I dreamed that our chemistry never faded.

That it always burned as brightly as it ever did.

I dreamed your laugh forever.

I dreamed your smile.

I dreamed your love.

I dreamed your touch.

I dreamed your weight on top of me.

–S.

I’m Sorry, S.

An overdue apology to myself.

S,

If I was only able to tell you one very last thing, I would simply tell you that I am sorry and I know that you would understand why. I’ve been so very wrong. I’ve spent my entire life putting you last in hopes of making others happy, and where did it get me? It got me here. I was going to write several different letters to various people, several different truths, but I just want to write to you. I want to put you first because I always put you last. From the very bottom of my heart and from the deepest part of my soul, I am so fucking sorry. I can only hope that you can forgive me and that I can repair all of the damaged pieces. I hope you still trust me with your heart and I promise to never fail you again. For twenty-seven years, I overlooked you, I deemed you as less than, someone unlovable, I let you disappear and fade into the background. What can I say, except I’m sorry for every minute that I let you believe that?

I think of the bump on your nose, your blackheads, your hairy face, your stomach rolls, your stretch marks, your bumps, your lumps, your curves, your scars, your acne, the red marks on your face, your chubby hands, your big wide feet, the dark spots between your legs where you chafed because your thighs rub together, your saggy breasts, your flat ass, all of the things that I tore apart in the mirror to make you believe you were less than. All of these things come together to make a breathtaking human being. They come together to make you.

I think of the times you walked, talked, laughed, and sang. I think of how you healed a broken wrist, cuts, wounds, and bruises. I think of how you take care of me – how you bathe me, you feed me, you put me to sleep. I think of how you see, hear, smell, touch, and taste the world. I think of how you make sure I breathe. I think of how you make sure blood and oxygen travel throughout my entire body. How you fight disease and infection. How you fire all of my neurons. How you power all of my organs. How your entire life basically revolves around protecting me. How you continued to love me when I tried to convince you that you were unlovable.

I think of the broken hearts you lived through from friends and lovers alike. How you love to make others laugh, how you love to inspire them to be their best selves. How you love hard. How you love true and honest despite the love given to you. How you never folded when others did. How you provide friendship unparalleled in others. I think of your kindness. Your intelligence. Your strength. Your work ethic. How protective you are about what you love. How you bounced back from failure. How you never tried to be too prideful about your successes.

You blow me away.

You always show up for me. Always. Even when I don’t show up for you. You’re my greatest friend, my first real love, my soul mate and the love of my life. The one person in this whole world, this whole universe, who really does know all of my secrets and the happenings in my head and still has the ability to love me despite everything I’ve ever done and said.

I don’t think I’ve ever said it, but I love you. I’m in love with you all that you are.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

I would say it for every second of your life that you couldn’t feel it if it would change something up this point, but there are no take backs in this life. All you can do is try again, hope for the best, and do better in the future.

So, I promise to love you every day moving forward. I will show up for you. I will not fail you. My love will not waver. My love is stronger than all of the forces in this life that choose to fight against it. Nothing will vanquish it, not even death. Because wherever we go after this life, I will love you there too. I will love you after this lifetime, and the next. And the next. And the next. I will love you.

–S.

Heavy Heart.

Excerpt from a letter that now almost seems like it was written in a past life.

I’ll miss your stories. I’ll miss fighting with you.

I’ll miss your deep voice. I’ll miss knowing you.

I’ll miss hearing your smile through the phone. I’ll miss you calling me on your lunch break.

I’ll miss falling asleep to your text messages. I’ll miss waking up to your text messages.

I will miss everything so fucking much.

God, it’s really over.

My heart is so heavy.

It is so so tired.

–S.