There was a man who walked in and mercilessly stole your heart away, kissing you on a chilly Christmas night as The Turtles chimed So Happy Together on repeat in your head.
You loved the scent of his skin lingering on you and held on to his white and maroon checked vintage shirt, the warmth of which worked itself all the way into your soul.
Your heart did funny things in it’s cage every time he would mispronounce a really regular word. You’d say the word over and over again in your head in his voice, and it only made you fall in love a little harder.
You traced the contours of his face a million times in your mind and could bring him to life in a split second if you closed your eyes.
His soft, long, skeletal fingers became the place you thought your hand belonged in and his touch, that always tickled more than it should have, could tingle memories before they were even made.
He wasn’t really funny, but the few inside jokes you scrapped up together over the years was your happy place. You could say them to yourself a million times and smile.
He was an enigma, with a curious mind and an ever so elusive presence. And even when he was beside you, it always seemed as though you had to fight a little harder to give words to the silence between your gazes.
It scared you when he looked at you, cause it felt like his button eyes could look all the way into you. But you didn’t think that maybe, just maybe, it could look through you.
When you feel something for someone that you can’t quite explain, for reasons you can’t even begin to fathom, you trust that it was a predestined, galactic match being handed down to you from several lifetimes. You are certain that in every birth and in every possibly existing parallel universe, your souls have met, meshed and been together.
So when you were in love, you probably thought that it would be the only time that you ever would be. Naturally.
And when you had to let go of him, you thought that it would never happen again. But of course.
So you kept picking at the hackneyed memories of jaded emotions and wondering how it ever got here. How could you be but another to each other now? How could you possibly have held on so tenaciously to the clarity that you saw in a moment and let go of your love of a lifetime?
There came others after him, the ones who you broke and the ones who broke parts of you, but never the part that could defeat you. That part belonged to him and you’ve been a defeated warrior stumbling along life ever since the day he walked away.
“Well, whatever. I’m just so glad you are not with him. He turned you into such a train-wreck.” Your closest friends all tell you the same thing. All the damn time.
So what if he did? Doesn’t love wreck you? Isn’t it supposed to be reckless? What was the use of sobriety in the world of amour! How can it even be called love if it doesn’t make you want to jump off a cliff every single day?
I’ve always been a believer in love, the fairy-tail, sweep you off your feet, perfect-for-each other kind of love. Blame it on one too many chick-flicks, call it what you may, but I could never imagine settling for anything less than elating, enthralling, all-consuming, I-will-love-you-a-million-times-more-than-you-love-me kind of love. The truth is, I could never imagine settling.
But then, there came a man who walked in and gently stole my heart away, standing ten feet away from me and doing his own thing on a chilly New Year’s Eve as a burning skyscraper and world renown fireworks battled for dominance in the night sky.
I loved how he sounded like my best friend and that he went out on a limb to share with me a part of his predestined, galactic down-the-gutter-drain that he didn’t have to.
He was funny, the real funny, and our hundred inside jokes spewed together over weeks became my happy place.
I could listen to him rap to Eminem over and over again, and suddenly the lack of music on my phone didn’t seem to matter so much. He would indeed be one tough act to follow.
His enigma was his fearlessness and when he was beside you, it was hard not to want to breathe him in, every last whiff of his rock solid honesty.
He reminded me of songs that were too sappy to ever understand, and he redefined the pain and heartache in all the old ones.
I didn’t think I deserved him, but for a change he didn’t think he deserved me either. And we both knew what holding on meant. We both knew how to count our blessings. We saw that maybe there could be another love, just as majestic, just as maddening. And if you waited out the pain, we saw that you truly cannot fathom what lurks around the next corner bend.
For the ones who lost their loves of a lifetime and the ones who can’t even begin to imagine how anyone else could ever make you feel remotely as crazily smitten as you were, I’d say your perfect is still out there, a greater perfect, a better perfect. And when others tell you to lower your expectations, you better tell them that they know nothing cause when you meet him, you’ll know.
And that moment of clarity?
Well, you can stop cursing it now.