Tonight I was reminded...and was prompted to remind...that it's ok to relate one's love stories with effervescent verve and wonder, and that as humans so often we walk around craving to hear how other people experience love, and how we all relate to each others' varying experiences of something that presents itself in such vast diversity.
I was telling K that it pisses me off that part of being a grown up is this annoying realization that there are no freaking absolustes, and you just. can't. make. assumptions that the way you perceive and experience the world around you is not the same way those you are surrounded by are experiencing it. And those rare and wonderful intersections in life where you can at least communicate or relate your experience in some abstract and approximate way with another human being are to be coveted and recognized as absolutely precious.
And I related to K a love story from my past. My distant past. And it's a story that I am sure has benefited from an age and a half of romantic forgetfullness. In fact, it's possible the actual order of events was completely fiction. I'm sure there was more strife in the relationship than what I related, but regardless, the story that unfolded was kind of beautiful, and sincere from my standpoint now. And my memory of the individual moments of the stories are all very positive ones, which I know to have been true. And I remember my exact feelings and have evidence through journals of my exact thoughts, crazy though they were. But my point is that it's amazing to me that I can still so distinctly FEEL the texture and warmth of a love that lasted for 2 years 20 years ago, and both smile and cry at the retelling of it...
And I still have all of the love letters. hee hee. I am nothing if not a total freaking sap.
I am encouraged by the existence that love is out there. That it has existed in my life in several varying shades and rhythms, and no one experience was any more or less value strictly due to his tenure or tenacity. I am shaped by *all* of my experiences, and my chosen response to them. And if I like who I am now, which I most certainly do, it is only because of that mish mash of perception, with a small dash of arbitrary reality, has made me that person.
And it's nice, because when being given the opportunity to peer into the windows of a different house of love, I learn to appreciate all that I have had in my life, and all that I have...and will have.
Forever and forever and forever.


11:19 pm / 18 December 2008


By Dru Blood
http://feministblogs.org/tag/love-stuff/

We all wander around hoping to know all there is about love, learning all the tricks and trying to figure out what true love is. But one thing is for certain, love does not have a set definition for every individual on this earth. We go through experiencing what we may think is love, and have this wonderful feeling of having this significant other. Its something that we all strive for at one point in our lives, and something that we hope to feel one day, we will all search for this in our lives, and hopefully, it will be something that we will find.