In Love with Love.

Recently I have been obsessed with love stories. All manner of love stories; lovers, spouses, parents and children, human to human, any love at all. I don't know what started it. I mean I always like listening to stories about people in love. I love reading my own story of love and watching my wedding video. But something recently ignited in me and my apatite has become voracious. TV shows where a deep, passionate (sometimes dark and scary) love is the central theme have become my torrents of choice. Books are the same regardless of their literary credentials. Same goes for blogs and music. At the moment I am just hooked on love.
I think that part of it is the rush you get. My good friend Trevor once told me that he thought I was addicted to that bio-chemical reaction that one experiences when they are first in love. I don't think he was wrong in his assessment of me. Of course at that time I had never gotten far enough into a relationship to know how good it feels when that initial rush passes and morphs into something new and different. I could not imagine anything that could feel better then falling in love. Boy was I wrong because falling in love has NOTHING on the warm, comfortable embrace of BEING in love, in a secure relationship. I know it sounds trite but it is true. And I will tell you why. For me, and I can't speak for anyone else, the RUSH of the falling is accompanied by something else, something much more sinister, it is a deep, DEEP, anxiety.
Falling in love means that the rug can be pulled out from underneath you at any moment. When you are falling in love you have to be on your best behavior ALL the time. One pms induced tear, one escaped fart in a moment of weakness, on single hair missed in the great shaving extravaganza and the whole thing could come crumbling down. When you are falling in love there are no wet towels on the bed, no toe nail clippings on the dresser. When you are falling in love you are the BEST you that you can be. It is so damn uncomfortable. I know I can put on a good face, I can look pretty and talk about interesting things... for about ten minutes. Then I am going to spill something on my shirt, fall up the stairs and fart. Probably all at the same time. The love stories that touch me the most are the ones that have been tested and survived. Like a Timex they have taken a lickin' and kept on tickin'. Today at lunch I saw a man who must have been 80 opening the car door for his sweetie and helping her in. That is the love that reduces me to tears. That is the love in the world I want to show my children. And I think that is the root of my recent unquenchable thirst for the big L is coming from. I keep seeing things that make me doubt people, doubt humanity and the inherent goodness for people. I need to be reminded that there is so much love out there in the world, just as there is within the wall of our home. Not everyone is pirate, a terrorist or a pedophile. Most people are decent and hard working and have a love story of their own to tell.