The Art of Love

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love

Love.

I love, love.

I am in love, and I love.

My man, loves me.

He still makes my heart skip a beat when he kisses me, or looks at me in that way.

Unfortunately, I think I am a lack-luster partner a lot of the time.   I’m usually the one screwing off while he does the responsible things around the house.  I’m usually so focused on the kids, the computer screen, or my writing that his hair could be on fire and I’d say….

“Whats that you say? You say you changed a tire?” while not even looking up.

Benign neglect- I am trying to be better about this.

I also have to admit that him loving me is also about him accommodating many of my not so endearing habits.

When we go to bed at night we usually spend some time reading, or browsing the web… grunting out a few comments here and there, and occasionally watching a show together.  Our together time usually ends when he looks over to say something handsome, wise, or thoughtful and is greeted by my innate form, eyes closed, book  or computer held in upright position, with my mouth un-glamorously gaping open, fast asleep, with perhaps a sparkle of drool in the corner.   In addition, I’ve usually piled enough books between us to rival the Great Wall of China…. just so that I have them… and yet I never seem to get around to reading them, so it’s a total joke that they are there.  If it were not for me, though, it would be highly unlikely that we would be able to locate a pen (or two)  in the middle of the night, just in case we should ever need to jot down an urgent thought, or sign a memorandum.

I’m always the one with my clothes piled all over the yummy brown leather club chair I insisted we put in our bedroom, so that we could “sit in it” and read, or maybe to use when we put on our shoes in the morning. If our closet were likened to postage stamp… I have the picture on the stamp while he kind of tries to fit his stuff inside the little borders that frame the stamp.

He puts up with these things, and never complains.  Sometimes I want him to complain… not that I could change it instantly, but it would make me feel better if he just once lost his brains and listed my shortcomings.  I’m not used to someone being so consistently lovely to me. Part of him not telling me that I need to change- keeps me from changing, and if he were to tell me to change I’d probably tell him to love me or leave me- well… probably, thats a big fat lie.  The truth is, I would immediately drop everything in my life and just focus on staying orderly so that I would be allowed to maintain my position as his woman forevermore.

I know that our love has “mellowed” over the years… it used to be white hot… now, it’s a warm, glowing, books in the bed, ball point pen lottery, clothing covered, stamp licking, hair could be on fire, kind of love.

I feel for you buddy. I do.

 

 

Comments

  1. Roo says

    I love the honesty of this—and I relate too–we have the yummy brown chair in our bedroom, currently covered with my sweatshirt, my jeans and my bag. We have a body pillow (not books) named Phil (sean named him) that has been in our bed since my first pregnancy (2003). Phil gets cozy with me nightly–sean deals with it. Our closet-exactly as you described. Bedtime-me watching friends reruns or the news or playing wwf while he falls asleep. Love is beautiful but it also has to be real. I think you and i have done our jobs to keep it real! Our men are keepers (and hey, they have their quirks too!!)

    • says

      Roo,
      You’ve had longer to find his faults… I am four years in, and the only fault i can find is that he will not eat any veggies or fruit. I’m really relieved we are on the same page here… I am really looking forward to finding more faults of his too- you give me hope. XO

      • Roo says

        Phil is so awesome-always there when I need him-true unconditional love. And sean, yes, has quirks, but he also just did round 1 of snow blowing and is camping out with the kids tonight in the family room. He is fab!! If we lose power, I will be there too, but for now, I am in bed….with one of my true loves, Phil.

  2. elizabeth says

    could be my life you’re writing about here. kevin is far more tolerant of my ‘quirks’ than any one human should/could be, and i try to express my acknowledgement and appreciation every day. ‘try’ being the operative word. ( ; xo

    • says

      Elizabeth,
      I sometimes wonder what I’ve done to deserve him. Right now he’s out snow blowing for the second time tonight… just to make life easier for tomorrow. Power just went out! Time for romance!

  3. says

    LOVE THIS! In my heart and on my vision board. Surrender to LOVE ~

    just what I want, need, desire and knowingly deserve. Born to LIVE, LOVE, BE :))))) LOVE YOU AND MR. GOODBAR

    XXXXxxxxxxxxxx

  4. says

    Since the migration to the one site, reading your writing and the comments from your audience is beginning to feel like I’m backstage where the dancers put their make-up on.
    I don’t mind or anything, just doesn’t feel like I was invited.
    And I can’t stop the drooling and keep my eyes in my head.

    Anyway, about Love… and your post about Secrets.
    Or “On Love and Lying”
    Last night I watched a relatively unknown movie “Flight”, with Denzel Washington.
    Thought it was going to be about a runaway airliner, like his runaway freight train movie.
    Well it started with a runaway airliner, but quickly became about his runaway life.
    And now I can’t get it our of my head.
    Or heart.

    Because of my runaway life.

    I was so absorbed in your description of love and how you love, but especially how you are loved by Mr. G.
    Can’t get that our of my head either.

    I was once loved like that.
    For 20 years.
    Constantly.
    Loved totally who only wanted me to be happy – and whole.
    But I was not your Mr. G., and could not lay off the continuing (if not constant) opportunities our humanness, failings and frailties create for criticism, judgement, nagging, picking – and, and, and.

    I never learned how to do what she asked of me as a simple request to change, to offer an act of Love…
    Her request, heard so many times: “Why not just look at my shortcomings as charming idiosyncrasies?”

    Yes, why not.
    Because I loved being right, being dominant, being ‘in control’, being the center.
    Or as Denzel said in one of his outbursts of argumentative righteousness – “because I choose to drink!”

    Once I could barely listen to, and barely stop listening to Joni Mitchell.
    The poignancy of little piercing lines that cut you when first heard and leave you with a little scar so you’ll always remember them. Like:
    “Don’t it always seem to go, that you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone…”

    Lucky for me, and for Denzel, in the end we couldn’t keep lying about who we were and what we had done.
    So when we were beat down enough, we finally said: “I am an alcoholic”
    And started to pick up the broken pieces and start to answer the question “Who am i?”
    For the first time, Free.

    Love your inspiration, Monica
    Love you.

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