So the first thing I'm going to do is tell you this next bit is not about sex. As I have been saying for years, sex is an expression of love -- one of millions. It's a potent expression, and studies have shown an orgasm has very strong bonding qualities...but so does a hug.
So let's put that one expression away and stop pretending it stands in for the whole concept of love. You don't think it does? Is a lover someone who loves you, or someone who fucks you?
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The first girl who told me she loved me was in grade three. Laura wasn't the first girl I kissed, nor, in fact, the first girl to see me naked...two years earlier a girl named Allison (and not only do I still recall her full name, but her address at the time as well) came to my house while I was in the bathtub, darted past my mom, and made it all the way into the bathroom and started to strip before Mom arrived on the scene and somehow made it unhappen. Bet she didn't imagine THAT happening to her son when he was six years old.
But Laura now. Of course it was puppy love, but at the time we didn't see it that way. I bought her a bracelet that said "Let it Be" on it. She bought me a teddy bear and named it Laura. I shared her with a friend of mine named Gordon; she shared Gordon and I with her friends Sonia, Anna and Catherine; none of us had any issues with kissing tag every recess. I don't ever recall anyone getting greedy except as a joke: Catherine once pushed me to the ground, sprawled full length on top of me, and kissed me about twenty times. This is the same girl who demanded we all swap clothes one day in the tall grass behind the schoolyard. I never saw so much as a flash of flesh, and Gordon and I really did get cajoled into it...these days I have little doubt we'd both be expelled and charged regardless. But it was innocent to us, or at least to me. I wasn't having sexual thoughts at nine years old...give me a couple of years.
But oh, I loved to kiss in grade three and I still do now in grade 48. I didn't kiss anyone again until grade 13...not for lack of fervent wishing I could.
Of course we don't have to kiss for me to love you. Love without sex or romance of any kind is called "friendship"....and my friends me just as much to me as my beloveds.
I practice love by allowing the person in front of me to be who they are, especially on days when they're not themselves. The first thing to confess is that I fail. Often. I have treated people I love in much less than a loving way. But I keep trying, and I think that's why I'm blessed to still have so many past loves in my life in some capacity today. Some of them have become friends with each other, which means just as much to me as their relationships with me.
The kinds of love required vary day to day and relationship to relationship. If the person I love is in front of me in real life, it's much easier to read their energies and respond accordingly; if that person is online, I simply mirror their treatment of me to determine how close to get in any given day. If that treatment grows cold and remote, I'll ask why; if I don't get an answer, I'll simply assume they don't want to be in my life anymore. That door will close, but you'll have to be the one to lock it.
I can't talk about love without talking about Eva, whose love is central to my life. Her philosophy of love is very much like mine: expansive and inclusive. There are quite a few people we consider family and many, many, MANY more we would consider family. For both of us, the question "who do you love MORE" doesn't signify. There really isn't more or less here, there's just different. Obviously, the people closest to you get more OF your love, by virtue of their seeing you day in and day out. But it doesn't mean we love others LESS, just differently.
The nature of our love was evident from the very beginning. I'd fallen in love before and I have since. That's a giddy stomach-droppy almost ill feeling. This had a bit of that but what it mostly felt like was relief. Like after so many years of being apart before we met, we were FINALLY together. And we both expressed that to each other on our second date; we were essentially married three weeks later, even though the formality of the ceremony was sixteen months away.
We did the things young couples do. Shared catchphrases multiplied to the point we can now have entire conversations using only other peoples' words. I read books to her, including the entire Hyperion Cantos by Dan Simmons. But what we did (and do) more than anything else was take care of each other. Because that's what love looks like to us.
Mark takes care of Eva in ways I can't. To name just one of many, he's a retired massage therapist with thirteen professional designations. He is her partner (of ten years now) every bit as much as I am her partner, and we take care of him, as well.
Other relationships exist, and they find their space in the tapestry. The people in the relationship are more important than the relationship. There are people I used to be close to who barely exist in my life at this point. I love them both; I doubt I'll ever see either of them again but that's always and forever up to them.
To me, that's what love is. No expectations beyond basic courtesy (and I'll accept SOME mistreatment on that score because some days, basic courtesy is just too much). No obligations. Wants, certainly. Strong desires, quite possibly. But my feelings are not up to you to reciprocate.
It's a vibe and a tribe whether you're next to me in the real world (always and forever my preference) or part of my Web web .... I love you.
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