Those few of you who know my life story, know this … I’ve never had too much luck when it comes to love. From having gone through domestic violence/spousal abuse, to just having fallen and/or been with the wrong people at the wrong time, all of this love business doesn’t come easy to me.
That’s one hell of an introduction, I know. But, it’s important and relevant.
Just under two months I was browsing Craigslist.com in search of a job. When I’d had my fill of fruitless work search, I thought I’d visit the Personals, mostly for shits and giggles—out of boredom, really.
My crooked sense of humor sometimes gets a kick out of “thirsty” (AKA: ridiculously horny) men posting penis pictures in a pathetic attempt to get laid. Yet, while in search of a good laugh, I happened across one add in particular that called out to me because of its sincerity and humility. It was simple, candid and sweet, and so, I just had to reply. It was late at night when I replied. I was dozing off to sleep at around that time, so I can’t clearly remember what it was I said other than having give an elementary introduction of myself.
The following morning when I checked my email, I’d received a reply. The fellow introduced himself as a local man by the name of John, who was an artist (musician), and was relatively easy going. Immediately seeing that we had something in common, I responded that I too was an artist (a writer & singer) and that I appreciated his prompt reply.
Soon after that, a string of back and forth emails subsequently followed. All the while I was feeling no pressure from him to give my phone number, or meet up, or anything of the sort for that matter. Just genuine and kind correspondence and nothing more.
In time we exchanged phone numbers and the conversations grew lovelier and inevitably, a sort of bond formed. At first I didn’t think much of it, other than, “Here is this nice guy who I really enjoy talking to. I will keep talking to him until such time as he acts like an asinine idiot, at which time I will be on my merry way.“
I honestly had no expectations. You see, my horrific luck in relationships had made me a bit cynical in my approach to any potential beau. So, unavoidably, I always expected the worst.
But, wouldn’t you know it, the worst didn’t come; nothing but kindness, understanding and heartfelt concern was all that I could see. It was lovely, AND refreshing. Not to mention, surprising.
Fast forward two months later, and I find my self irrevocably in love with this man. Head over heels, in fact.
He’s a wonderful man, a kind man, a caring man, who has suffered loses in his own right, but has pulled through them. And instead of being bitter, his torments have made him even kinder. Able to cherish things profusely, able to open his heart to receive, as oppose to closing it from fear of being hurt again.
I AM IN LOVE WITH HIM!
John Patrick Kelly, if you’re reading this, I love you. I adore, you. And, I promise you this; I’m not going anywhere for as long as you want me in your life.
Yet, here is where the bittersweet turmoil of love abundant begins, and where it inescapably takes me.
I’M SCARED TO DEATH! I FEEL CRAY, I FEEL INSANE, I FEEL IRRATIONAL, AND YET … I AM IN LOVE.
How can one fall in love so completely in such a small amount of time? My experiences tell me that when this happens, the end result is always heartache.
Is it rational to feel this way even when I’ve encountered such heartache in the past? My history dictates, that it isn’t.
Why am I so scared? Well, because I don’t want to lose him. I don’t want this connection to dissipate into the grad abyss of love-lost. Because, what if he gets to know more about me and decides that I’m not good enough? Because, I fail to see in me, what he does and I don’t want to be the cause of shattered illusions.
Can it even work? In the past it hasn’t. What’s to say or guarantee it will now?
Am I moving to quickly and letting the pheromones, hormones and yearning be the judge of my actions, as opposed to making rational, legitimate choices? I can’t tell where one begins and the other ends. In other words, am I thinking with my head, or my vagina? Who is to say?
I must be crazy to put myself in the position of being heartbroken again. To boot, I’m putting HIM in that position as well. How selfish of me!
Will he still be around, and love me still, even when he learns all of my faults and idiosyncrasies? Or will he, like everyone else, tire of my not being perfect and also flee?
I don’t like not knowing. I hate the feeling of blindness. It’s like jumping into a 10 foot deep pool with a blindfold on. You have no idea if there is actually water in it. The thought of the unknown possibilities—the pestering probe of the “what ifs” poke at me like a hot sod-iron in my side, threatening to undo me completely.
And so, I feel like a lunatic, battling against reason, and heart. Fighting against the innate spiritual connection and wholeness that this union brings, and the sorrow that might ensue should things not work out. Wrestling with self and selfishness. Contending with the rational and the irrational.
And whilst being continually bedeviled by the endless possibilities, calculating probable outcomes—an arithmetic that has neither rhyme nor reason—I know solely this …