I have been in love with four men; each of them very different in looks and stature, and dozens of other ways, but all managed to find a place in my heart. There is a common thread that exists with all of my loves; we were friends before I fell in love with them. As a friend, I did not try to hide my flaws and win them over, as one might do in pursuit of a romance. They also came to the friendship without pretense. They knew me, and I knew them, flaws and all, and from friendship love grew.
Recently, over the course of a few months, I connected with my first three loves, as unexpectedly as when I first fell in love with them. Each encounter has resulted in a flood of delicious memories of happy, funny, sexy, transforming times that I am so grateful to have experienced. Don’t get me wrong; there were painful times – some truly shitty times; they are part of the transforming category. Each of these men broke my heart, but I don’t regret loving them; not one bit.
The surprising deluge of memories has caused me to reconnect to a part of myself that I had put to sleep: reviving my heart to recall love, long dormant, and reminding me that while I am pretty fabulous on my own, I am truly at my very best when I am in love. I have arrived at the conclusion that love does not die. I can suppress or repress love, and relegate it into dormancy, but it still exists; it still lives within me, even if I choose to ignore it and leave it unattended.
This awakening, along with the patient and loving nudging of wonderful friends, has fueled me to write again, as well as explore other creative endeavors. The unconditional love from my friends has always been an inspiration, and combined with the recent consciousness acquired from my love encounters, a divine tonic was concocted that has resuscitated my creative cells; resurrecting a vital part of myself, and filling my heart with joy.
I am back, people, and I have some stories to tell!