Loves Grows where my ................ Goes . . .
Day two, being in love. It is a nice fact to find, me not having to save this one. I'm sure she likes me; I am sure she has some quality that I cannot live without. The romantic in me wants to say she is the one, but of course, I just don't know yet. Her face is delicate and strong. Her eyes are just gorgeous. He mouth is like the mouth I saw in my dreams as a thirteen year old boy. Thr same mouth that was on my last girlfriend, the mouth-fraud. Her mouth is different in a way though. Hard on the outside, gentle underneath. For some reason, I want to kiss her, a want I've not had for years now. And I think that gentleness underneath is the most plush and vibrant thing I'll come across in a long time. If- if I get to come across it. Of course in love I am optimistic. It is the mindset I was raised with. My mother, my grandmother are both optimistic in love and have been lucky thus. WIll I be lucky? The men in my family are not. But the men in my family have only hurt the ones they love, where I know I will devote my life to her, when she comes to me. (Maybe this is her.) Maybe the clouds have parted and maybe she is waiting for me to propose. I always equate proposing as the ultimate act, no matter how it is objectified in that runaway-New-England-bride or the man left standing at the alter, at the bus terminal where his wife went missing.
Damn, I smoke more when I've been drinking. But tonight, I don't care at all. I've been there and back tonight, being strong and trying to get to know this woman, trying to find out how close she is to my perfection. Perfection being different for each. I don't expect perfection from her (if she is the one); I only expect her to be perfect for me (if she is the one). And her roommate- she wa there- I swear I've met her before. I don't get fond memories of this meeting, but I am sure. I probably won't place it any time soon. But this girl, she is odd just enough to make me interested. And I do not think I'll have to be her savior, which is a miracle in-and-of-itself. I hope I've learned to trust my gauge enough. I hope the love in my is still solid. I know it is still.
The way I see love: Love is pure. Love is the prayer before bed, excusing the selfishness that follows a truly good person's blessings of their loved ones. Love is the blanket that covers cold feet at night, the blanket leaving warm feet uncovered. I should not say love is another's feet; it is not. Love is knowing yourself well enough to value the love you offer, valuing the ones you love as they are,and gracing them with that love no matter what. I have yet to love a woman in this way (mother's and mother-figures are the exception and a similar but altogether different love); I've spent almost four years cultivating this frame-of-mind. I am a better person for it. I am a person who is able to love fully at a relatively young age. Now comes the hard part. Testing the women I find myself attracted to, and dictating which attributes make me thus attracted. I am in love again and Donna Summers is indeed playing. I've just put her on . . .