6 Word Fridays: Love

This week's word is love -- how lovely, yes?  Thanks Melissa!

http://www.5lovelanguages.com/learn-the-languages/the-five-love-languages/

These past six years, I've often

thought of love.  What it is,

what it could be, what it

should be, what I want it

to be.  Since my divorce I

don't allow fanciful notions of love

not anymore - I want to see

it, feel it, taste it, know!

I've been with Hoosier Guy now

for eight plus months.  Learning, listening,

finding what I was missing before.

Turns out, I didn't know love,

I didn't understand what it means

to GET love as well as

GIVE it. Learning the love languages,

knowing which one appeals to me,

finding out which one he speaks.

My love language -- acts of service,

his love language is physical touch.

I move next week -- to him,

to 'our' space, he's worked hard,

to transform a dusty storage area

into a beautiful home for us.

He is speaking my love language,

and I am ever so thankful.

So, Hoosier Guy, this Friday is

for you -- my love, my darling.

Your acts of service for us

mean more than you can know. 

You've cleaned space, hauled trash out,

stained and sealed paneling, painted trims,

painted a chimeny, painted a bookshelf,

replaced ceiling tiles, hung ceiling fan,

painted walls, sanded floors, sealed floors,

planted flowers, hung lights, placed lights,

and installed welcome mat - for us.

There are other things, 'surprises' you

call them, which I'll see soon.

Acts of service - you love me.

I love you, my Hoosier Guy.

Thank you for making our home.

Serendipity

There are some days where I would *swear* the universe just knows what we need when we need it.

Yesterday was one of those days.

I spent Tuesday night on the phone with a friend.  Lu (as you've been introduced to before) lost her husband of 17 years in 2009 to complications following a fall. [See blog post here: http://athenainindy.blogspot.com/2009/09/my-friend-steve.html]

We talked about how her work is going (boo hiss -- return of a jackass for a boss [I may be insulting jackasses by comparing them to him]), her kids (family drama), and her missing Steve (we all do).  She said something that stuck with me on Tuesday -- she said "I feel like I'm cheating when I go out with other guys." 

I had to stop, take a deep breath, and tell her that Steve would want her to be happy -- whatever the hell 'happy' is right now for her.  Certainly happy today does not look like happy two years ago at this time --

Last night I talked to Hoosier Guy about this.  We've talked many times about how we didn't know each other in high school (despite a total HS population of 600 or so), only knew OF each other through mutual friends.  Each of us has said -- what if we'd met then -- would things have gone completely different for us?

I don't know.  I think so.  I think, truly and honestly, each year, each moment, each moment of happiness or heartbreak shapes us.  I'm certainly not the person I was a year ago, not the same as 5 years ago and certainly not the same as high school me, let alone the child me.  I don't think I (nor he for that matter) would appreciate each other and what we do for one another if both of us hadn't lived through our lives as they happened. 

--- Back to Lu.  As we talked about Steve and her feelings on dating, I felt a profound sadness for her, even more so developed with time.  She had "that guy."  Steve WAS, indeed, her soul mate.  Her lover, her friend, her confidante, her rock -- those were all Steve.  And one cruel, hateful September day, Steve was gone. 

Thinking about our conversation yesterday, I was perusing my blog, as I do.  I love to read the comments (yes, I read 'em all), and I happened upon a commenter I hadn't seen before -- CJ.  As per the norm, if I see someone I don't know, I click on their name and see if they have a blog.  If they do, I give it a read. 

CJ, if you read this, thank you for writing your blog.  I still don't (and can't) understand the depths of your loss, but I feel I've gained a greater understanding of Lu and her loss of Steve.  Thank you.  I don't know you, we've never met, but you've taught me a great deal through your words.  If you'll accept a cyber-hug from a stranger through this magical thing we call the Internet, please accept one from me. 

CJ's blog is below -- it isn't her only one, as she is a very prolific writer.  Again, CJ, thank you for commenting on my blog and allowing me a moment to glimpse into your life.  Seeing your comment yesterday and then reading your blog was serendipitous indeed.

http://theredsweater.blogspot.com/

Thoughts from C.S. Lewis

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket- safe, dark, motionless, airless--it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.”

-- C.S. Lewis

Cupid's Got A Piss-Poor Aim Party (a reflection on Valentine's Days gone by)

Back in my 20s, I'd been through what I considered dating hell.  Now, of course, I know better, as dating hell is only a precursor to marriage hell, divorce hell and post-divorce dating hell.  Dating hell is the pre-school of hell, with marriage being high school graduation hell, divorce hell being college level hell and post-divorce dating hell being graduate level hell, but I digress.

Back in that time in my life, I had (as I do now) a great group of friends.  Most of us wore the battle scars of relationships gone bad, not to mention a general dismay over a certain day in mid-February called Valentine's Day.  It seemed almost appropos that we were consistently single on that day, and the "happy couples" around us would make us all want to barf, repeatedly, like a frat boy after ten twenty keg stands.

At the time in which this started, I had a cute little house in Irvington that was great for hosting parties.  I was tired of being single, tired of thinking about being single and tired of hearing all my friends whine about being single.  What is a girl to do?

Host a party.

Thus, the "Cupid's Got A Piss-Poor Aim" party was started.  I would make everything - salad to dessert - and the guests would be asked to bring a bottle of wine to share.  Needless to say, since we were in our twenties and not quite yet worn off the college tolerance levels and young urban sophisticates, the norm was two bottles of wine per person.

All of this is to say that I would often have overnight houseguests after these parties.  This was no big deal, I had three bedrooms and a pull-out couch, not to mention lots of floor space, to accommodate those (all of us) who had overindulged the night before.

Thinking back to those parties never fails to make me laugh, as we would all have big fun telling tales of dates gone wrong, life in general and jokes.  It was, as ever, a great time.  I miss hosting them still.

I still think back to the one I hosted -- might have been the last one -- whereas I invited the guy I had gone out with a few times.  I had gone out to lunch that day and ended up with food poisoning -- during dinner.  What I have not mentioned is that the guy I had gone out with a few times had apparently taken it upon himself to date the girl in the office next to me, who was also invited to the party.  Hi-larity ensued.  He was shown the curb by both of us the very next day.  He actually thought bwahahahahahahaha that the reason I was sick was because I was "so upset about finding out he was dating K too."  Definitely a classic for the ages.

Ah, cupid, so glad you've developed a better aim these days.

It's a funny thing, being 'defriended' on Facebook

Earlier this week, I'd noted my "friend count" had gone down on FB, but with folks coming and going, and life constantly changing, I figured it was probably someone I 'gamed' with, not someone I knew.

Whether or not it was this week (or in weeks past), I now know who it was.  It's a funny thing ... this timing.  Last year at about this very time, he and I ceased dating because he was confused about his life and a past love.  At the time, I was stone cold pissed -- upset beyond words -- crying -- the nasty 'boo hooing' one only does when one is truly ALONE because of how awful you sound and look.  Looking back, I'm not quite sure why it hit me so hard -- maybe it was the 'promise' of something good dating-wise, maybe it was because he was (and likely remains) a gentleman (opening car doors and the like), or maybe it was because 'our' dairy queen lady loved to tell me about 'my husband' -- when in reality we'd only gone out a few times at that point, invariably stopping at DQ for a sweet after.  Like I said, looking back, I'm not quite sure what I was all fired up about but I was, at one point, anyway, really hurt that he and I had stopped dating.

Since that time (and shortly after we stopped dating), he moved in with yet another female and has since made a life with her and their collective children.  At last check, he seemed happy. I think that's all you can hope for someone is that they are happy (and I do wish that for him).

I looked him up today because I was curious how his classes turned out this semester.  Yes, he is a student at my college, albeit at the campus north of here, but he's mentioned me a few times in his postings and my colleagues -- often giving them a shout-out when they've been good to him.

And now we're defriended. 

And since that time of our dating, I didn't date anyone until Hoosier Guy. 

And now I am thankful EVERY DAY things didn't work out with that other guy.  I would've hated to miss out on someone as lovely as Hoosier Guy.  Funny how life works out sometimes, isn't it?

Off to DC again ...

A week of road-time awaits me.  Sunday - Saturday in DC.  Plenty of conference activities.  Plenty of cool opportunities. 

A chance to see friends old and new.

An opportunity to check out a couple of schools for the Ph.D. program.

Will see PM while I'm there.  As he says "it's gonna get weird" and as I say "shenanigans." 

Updates later.  I arrive there at 2 p.m. tomorrow.

****
a sidebar -- the potential love interest just keeps getting more interesting.  :) 

After our "deep dark" discussion of the other night, I really did feel a burden lift from me.  You've gotta understand, dear Readers, that I, like many, have dated the Hit Parade of Jackasses over the years.  Lots of Judgemental Fucks, with plenty of opinions on 'how things should be' or 'expectations' from me.  I am who I am and after getting kicked in the ass about a million times over mistakes I've made (as if Judgemental Fucks never made any -- but I digress), I've been more than hesitant to lay my soul bare.  His abject acceptance of my mistakes was and is a wonderous, splendid thing. 

As if he weren't attractive to me to begin with -- he adds compassion and acceptance. 

 "If I had a flower for every time I thought of you, I could walk in my garden forever."


--Alfred Lord Tennyson

The darkest reaches of your soul -- bared to another

I'm not perfect.

There.  I said it.

Not that I've ever claimed to be perfect but somehow, someway, we all get put on a pedestal by someone at some time.  I'm just your average mid-30s divorced chick with some stuff in my past I'd rather not examine too closely anymore -- let alone share it with someone.

It's not that I haven't thought about those things.  Been in therapy for them, in fact.  I just don't want to relive the sickening moments where I let myself down.  Having someone else judge me is one thing, judging myself -- oh yeah, that voice just doesn't know when to STFU.

I've forgiven myself for the mistakes I've made and have shut the door on them, with renewed hope and ferverent interest that I never, ever repeat those moments again. 

So there is a potential love interest out there (yes, dear Readers, I've been holding out on you and no he isn't a matter for public discussion at the moment), and I wanted to come clean with my mistakes, so as to "start fresh" as it were.  We talked last night and I told him the story.

His response: "That's in the past, stop beating yourself up about it. We all make mistakes." 

Wow. 

I felt accepted as I am, mistakes and all.  I can't possibly describe to you the relief I felt -- it was as if that 'blanket of worry and doubt' had been lifted and replaced by pure, unadulterated sunshine and hope.

I feel light today -- and have a smile on my face that just won't come off. 

Reading a lot these days

I've been doing my usual: something heavy, something fluffy and back again.  Last night was a fluffy night and I read "Plain Truth" by Jodie Picoult. 

Alright, not entirely fluffy as it dealt with infanticide at an Amish farm in Pennsylvania. 

Anyhoo, I stayed up far too late, finished the book and then lay awake thinking of that line in the book that *got* me -- you know, the one you wish you wrote, the one line that says it all.  In this book, the line was about finding that "one" person that time stands still when you are with them.

I can remember only one moment like that in my life.  It stands out because it was as though we were the only people in the room, although we were surrounded by classmates, our professor and some pretty quizzical looks when it was all over.

He was a guy I'd had a crush on forever ... never followed through on that one, always the wrong time, as he and I were always involved with someone else when the other was free. 

It was an ordinary fall afternoon, we were taking the same political science class.  For some reason, the prof asked us all to pair off and dance for a minute ... for the life of me I cannot remember why.  There was music, there was dancing and then the music was over, and we were still looking at each other and talking, lost in our own world.  I remember the professor asking us if we were through, and my blush taking over my whole body, let alone my face.

The earth literally stopped moving that day, that hour, that moment.*

He's married now.  Looks like he's happy -- and I'm glad for him.  He deserves happy.

I just wonder if the earth stopped moving for him that day too.


*there are times, like now, that I wonder if that moment will ever come to pass for me again.  I was 21, going on 22.  I'm approaching 37 now.  Fifteen years and I still think about that moment.  I've never had another moment like that since.  Will I find another that will stop time for me?  Will I find another that I want to stop time for?