The Ride

It has occurred to me recently that I might be going about this all wrong. This stupid silly little thing known as "love".

Love. What is it really? We all use it so rampantly and indignantly that it's almost lost all meaning. "I love those shoes!", or, "I freaking love mac-n-cheese!", or,  "I love me some Tony Parker, beotch!"  And, I don't even know Tony Parker. How could I possibly love him?

This I know for certain: I do love my children with every fiber of my being. That is love beyond measure. And, I love my sisters and my parents and my nieces and nephew and great niece and nephews.  I even love my brothers-in-law and all of my cousins and aunt and uncle.  And, I love my close friends. When I say this, it is genuine. And, I have no question that they love me. As it should be.

But, all that love is based on years of hard work and life experiences. It is love that is learned and earned.

It takes time. And, it should. Anything worth having is worth the investment you put into it.

When it comes to romantic love, well.....my level of expertise is nonexistent at best. I find it to be very confusing, to the level of calculus or macroeconomics. Frankly, it just plain eludes me. I thought I had a handle on it for the better part of 14 years. Turns out, not so much.

Now, the diminutive and ever shrinking hopeless romantic in me still clings to the notion that unbridled and impulsive romantic love is still very much alive and well. She is tiny but mighty and clever, that one. I currently have her gagged and hog tied in the corner.

I have to assume that such wild, magical and unexpected romantic love does exist. As I write this I am watching someone very close to me in the throes of such a fairy tale. I have even silently poo pooed it, but, there's no denying it. There is a very mutual and wistful love story taking place right in front of me. Who am I to be judge and jury that such things just don't exist? Just because I am currently residing in a different fairy tale, aka The Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe (store), I shouldn't begrudge my dear friend of her happiness.

I don't. I wouldn't.

But, I have to ask, how do you know? How do you know when to take that little leap? And, by the way, when did I become so jaded and afraid? When did the prospect of love become so damn scary?

It just is. It's scary. Life is scary. You could get hurt. You WILL get hurt. It is inevitable. But, there's really no point in living your life full of regret. Live and learn. That's the best any of us can do, I guess.

So, back to my original point, my going about this all wrong. Ok, maybe I'll let little missy out of her hog ties. Give her some air time. In other words, freaking relax and allow the come-what-may to, well, come.

And, in the mean time I will enjoy the company of the people I love. Lucky them! Or me. Or both....not sure on that.

In the words of my highly enamored and giddy friend, enjoy the ride!