Love Diagnosis

Trying to put love into words. An exercise in amorous flexibility. Proof of love’s existence, because in my mind, to love is to live- and haven’t I done it?

But easily said- not yet done. Love is not what I believed as a child. One man for one woman, a bolt of lightening, a perfect undeniable match, with no room for debate or reason- just a look, that shock and BAM! Eternity.

But then again, most things did not turn out how I believed they would when I was a child. I have not yet discovered the cures for all diseases- including my Big Three: cancer, heart disease and diabetes. I am not yet a horse trainer, and I have only been heroic a few times, and not one of those time have I been in a modernized version of Wonder Woman’s bad ass get up (different colors, of course: red, black, and green). I have not become a feminist lawyer. I am lacking in the publication quota department, and none of these meager works are children’s.

I have been lazy I guess.

Back to love and its spidery complications. I always thought it would be more direct- it would punch you in the face and there would be no avoiding it and that was a good thing because it was righteous and justified and the way things should be. Now some people were unlucky and that fist never found them, or the fist was off the mark, but for the most part, love was a Cupid form of Mohammad Ali. Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee, and that sting was full of honey Baby.

Now, all grown up, years and years into the love tango- because that is what it is, an intricate dance- I see things about love. It is a delicate balance, too easy to miss-step. It buries itself, and is sometimes hard to find and recognize. It is evasive. Sometimes, if you dig it out of hiding, love gets very excited and blazes its head like a sun. Love shines. This is usually new love. Later though, love is tired from all that shining, and buries itself somewhere. It can be hard to locate and easy to lose, and the couple will forget what brought them together in the first place. I’ve witnessed this, left in the dark, the once happy couple says hurtful things to one another, throws dishes, intentionally shrinks favorite clothing items and calls it an accident, sleeps with each other’s friends, stops taking important phone messages, finds excuses to not go to the other's doctor's appointments (even when there is blood being drawn), leaves their dirty socks all over the house, just to agitate. Sometimes the people stay together, sometimes they don’t make it. That’s life; that’s love. Eventually love will wake up, and if the couple is still together, they may start to feel its warmth on their feet at night- and then on their shoulders in their morning… They’ll be ok.

Me: I’m a different story. I’ve been watching love for too long. I see family members fall to its whims. I don’t know that I can play by the rules.

Him: Beautiful. Long and limber, with the heart and soul of something fuzzy and protective, all I can say is this:

I am a difficult person. Honestly. I am not the nicest of people, though I always have the best intentions. I am far too opinionated, slightly cold unless you know me very well, and probably come off as slightly snobbish as well because I don’t know how to speak colloquially. I don’t like being touched, and don’t really smile or laugh easily. I am uncomfortable in groups, and on top of all of these flaws, and have medical problems that need to be addressed on a regular basis. I’m not a solo-flying freak or anything- I have wonderful friends who I hug, and I laugh with- it’s just the general population, or “strangers” if you will. I am just very self- contained. I keep a tight reign on all my emotions.

He not only accepts me how I am; he loves me for it. It’s ok because I’m fighting to save the world, even if it’s only in my backyard. He reminds me of my volunteer work, the tutoring, my abilities with children. He will tell me I’m pretty when I’m not, or when I have BBQ sauce on my face, or a huge zit, or when I’m attached to an IV in a hospital. That is love at work.

One small detail:

I lose my head quite often. I feel alone and crazy and that the top of my cranium may either blow right up into space, or right down into the gray matter. Either way- I don’t know. I’m losin’ it, right? People, family, close friends. They know… go...away. She’s having a hamster day, where her brain is on the hamster wheel and she just can’t get it to stop running that stupid little wheel- get out of her way. I can’t handle all these morbid awful horrible thoughts that are catching up with me, and I want to scream and cry and possibly commit homicide at the same time, and let me tell you folks, it ain’t gonna be pretty. And I’m throwin’ stuff and thinking about adopting kittens, and the only person who can take me out of this is him. I see his face, and I don’t know if it’s biology or the way his nose is set so delicately below his perfectly spaced pond green brown eyes, the way he’s put so artistically together or pheromones, or what, but the moment I see him I stop and just run into his arms, and he rubs my head, and wipes away my psycho tears, and we eat ice cream and I’m ok. That’s love.

I add:

I love the way our bodies intertwine. I am so much smaller than him- maybe a whole 12 inches shorter. He can wrap his entire body around mine, almost like a cocoon. I nestle my head in his chest hair and listen to his heartbeat, it’s the sweetest music, and he runs his fingers through the mess on my head, and we can sit like this for a long time, but it makes me fall asleep so I move. I know he is disappointed, because he likes bringing me peace, but when I sleep during the day, I feel like I am missing life. But I still love cuddling up to him. He is the safest place to be. I think that is what love is- your safe place.

I think that is why love needs to slip away, when it doesn’t feel safe anymore. The fighting starts, and it packs a bag, and skips out. But once you settle down and give in the pull of two souls, who just want to intertwine and protect one another, then love will come back to shine again. But not until then.