Of Love

Obligatory Valentine’s Day post. However, it is not a typical “love is amazing!” or “love stinks!” post. It is a subtle blend of the two, meshing together to form a “love is amazing and it also kind of stinks sometimes” post.

I have every right to be bitter about the concept of love, as I am seven months into my life without my husband–soon-to-be ex-husband.

I don’t even like the term “ex-husband.” It implies that I want him completely stricken from my record, which I admit, some days I do. I never wanted to have fallen in love with his boyish charm, his fantastic sense of humor, his beautiful brownish-grey eyes, or the slight gap between his two front teeth. I wanted to take back the last ten years of my life and avoid ever meeting him.

But then, I don’t think I’d be the person that I am today, so while the last fifteen months of my life have been less than favorable, and at times, downright unbearable to live through, I’d spend those ten years with him all over again. Despite our dissimilarities, our eventual growing into separate lives, our indifference towards each other, I still love the man. He’s a wonderful human being, and I hope he can find someone else to share his amazing qualities with–I just hope she is prepared for his downsides, as well. But that is beside the point.

The point is love.

Love, in itself, is a wonderful, splendid thing. The moment you first realize you simply cannot spend one single day without the person next to you is a feeling that is unstoppable. You want to live and breathe for this person. You want to move mountains, catch stars, and bottle sunshine and all that other happy crap. Life with this person is going to make your existence better. Life with this person is what you are meant to do.

So, you make The Commitment to them. You prove your love to them in any way, shape or form you can.

My former husband was never the romantic type, and that’s fine. He’d buy me flowers on occasion, when he thought about. He preferred to show his love in small, less noticeable ways. Holding my hand when we drove somewhere, tucking me into bed at night and singing a silly song while he did, brushing my hair out of the way when it would fall across my eyes, lying at the other end of the couch with my feet on his lap…little things like that so many people take for granted. I didn’t need garish displays of his affection, although admittedly, being a woman, a big honkin’ ring or other flashy bauble would have been nice, but we were young and barely scraping by to make ends meet. He did what he could with what we had, and that is really all I could have asked for.

And then, things change.

Outwardly, our appearance seemed shiny and glossed over to a high sheen. Inwardly, we were both struggling. Sure, we have our differences of opinion–any couple does. Our problem lied in the fact that instead of working through these little bumps in the road, maneuvering around them, we let them grow. We hardly talked about anything slightly serious in nature, and when we did, it was a long, painful and drawn-out process of me trying to coax him into talking. Very rarely was I successful in this, and more often than not, it would end with me becoming incredibly frustrated and crying for him to please try to communicate with me in some way. He would get up and leave, going down into the basement to spend hours playing video games. Oh, how I hated those fucking video games. If he spend nearly as much time and effort in our relationship as he did those blasted games…

Anyway. I’m running off on a tangent here. My point is this: love is a fleeting thing, but if you are lucky enough to catch hold of it, do so with dear life and relish every moment of it, because you will never know when you will lose it.

I am not bitter about love. Love treated me very well when I had it. And my wish for you is to do the same thing.

Love,
Erin

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