Saying I love you

I say I love you all the time.

To my family.

My kids.

My friends.

I have to say, as far as saying I love you goes I’m in for a penny, in for a pound.

I have no problem saying it when I feel it.

I’ve noticed however, that there are two times when people say I love you when you should be suspicious.

One.

They say it during The Act.

Everyone knows hormones enhance the urge to bond and say whatever comes in our brain.

Sometimes it’s kink.

Sometimes it’s romance.

Two.

They say it when drunk.

I have experience with this too.

Both saying it to others and having others say it to me when we’re a few drinks past good taste.

I love EVERYBODY when I’m tipsy.

And lately, drunk men have been coming out of the woodwork to claim their affection for me.

One texted it over Kik, and don’t think I wasn’t amused by that.

And another said it during a party.

And the third guy just spouted it out one night, while drinking with his pals.

And you know, even when people say it and I know it’s fleeting, I still get a secret little thrill from it.

Wouldn’t you?

I don’t have a love story

I don’t have a love story.

And that’s okay.

I don’t need one.

The love in my life is so overflowing from other sources, from my family and friends, that it seems unbearably selfish to wish for more.

So I won’t keep wishing for a love story.

I already have too many to choose from.

Let me tell you some love stories.

My dad once bought me an enormous basket of every single type of fruit that Lunardi’s sold because I cried postpartum that all my fruit spoiled while I was in the hospital giving birth to my rainbow baby, Duncan.

Or my 15 year old birthmother who had to make an impossible decision about putting me up for adoption.

How heart wrenching to give up a beloved child.

There’s the time my sister-in-law cried with me because I was heartbroken over a breakup.

She felt my suffering like it was her own.

And of course, there’s the time my sister and I giggled as we sat in the back of a car in a hotel parking lot, drinking beer and thinking we were being unobtrusive.

We were SO obvious!

There’s my mom who spent countless nights staying up late, baking cookies for a bake sale or putting the final touches on a costume or wiping my fevered forehead.

And my cousin used to invite me to visit her on weekends because she knew I was alone and had no one to hang with,

So you see, I’ve not devoid of love.

I’m flush with it.

I don’t have a love story because I have love stories.

I love you

Three words I’d love to hear someone say to me.

Not that I’m unloved.

It’s just that people don’t TELL me as often as I’d like.

My mom.

My sister.

My Barbara.

My Nadine.

My kids.

Today, someone unexpected told me they love me.

Of course, there was a lot of alcohol involved.

But given how many times I’ve reached out to my friends and declared how much I love them, simply because I wanted them to know, I guess turnabout really is fair play.

It was SO nice to hear.

And I course, I love them right back!

Writing

I write about what I love.

What I feel passionate about.

My kids.

Burning Man.

Travel.

Costuming.

Friends.

Some people love when I write about them.

Others don’t want the exposure.

My response when people ask me not to blog about them is always to respect their boundaries.

Internally my response is different, however.

Internally, I’m hoping that they don’t do anything interesting or entertaining.

Because ultimately, I write about what is interesting (to me).

Thankfully, most of my friends are okay with being blogged.

Perhaps they understand better than most that if a writer falls in love with you, you can never die.

You live on forever in the words that captured your essence.

Personally, I’d love to fall for a writer.

I find writers to be some of the most romantic people out there in the world.

Because I express myself well through written words I pair up nicely with someone else who enjoys the written word.

It’s just that simple.

I’m dying to write about more people, including but not limited to a significant other.

There’s not much else I can be doing to meet someone during a pandemic, but I certainly can write about the friends I love and cherish.

When a writer writes about you, you live forever.

Celebrate love

Everyone is celebrating their anniversaries, or so it seems.

Facebook is filled with love.

‘Tis the season, I guess.

I can’t help but think back to my own wedding in February of 1996.

Hard to believe we were married for almost 10 years.

It felt impressive back then to have been married that long.

However, it doesn’t seem that amazing now compared to people who are hitting 15 or 20 years together.

My parents hit 50 years of marriage this past week.

I know.

That’s pretty major!

They celebrated with a pool party for the Fourth of July instead of hosting a socially distant anniversary party.

Truth be told, my mother didn’t want to celebrate it at all.

Let’s just say that marital bliss can be elusive when you’re living in a house with a 90 year old blind husband.

As for my own marital aspirations, more than anything, I’d really like to settle down with someone, shack up and live out our golden years together.

But since that’s not happening, for better or for worse, I think I’ll just have to be satisfied taking care of myself.

So here’s to the season of love and anniversaries.

May we all find reasons to celebrate our loved ones this summer and always.

Thankful

Well, sending love letters to my loved ones is still a project underway.

Given these unsettling times, I told everyone over a Chipotle dinner that I loved them.

That my children are the best things to happen to me.

And honest to God, they are.

Followed closely by the blessing of my parents.

Being adopted by them was a streak of good luck.

Of course, everyone snickered, and my eldest asked if I was feeling okay.

No, I’m not OKAY.

I’m worried.

Nervous about the future.

Suddenly I am thankful for the most mundane of things: a deep breath of air, a slice of chocolate cake, a sunrise. . .

My birthfamily too.

So if you were to ask me how “shelter-in-place” is going, I’d have to tell you I’m in THE BEST company.

If they’re not here with me, they’re close to me, carried in my heart.

And it feels good to remember how special they are to me.

Love Letter #1

I wrote my first of many love letters to a dear “old” friend of mine.

We happened to be texting.

And I’m not sure if it was the effects of watching Ellen Degeneres or the booze I was drinking, but the love just started pouring out of me.

I started out by pointing out what a gift he is in my life:

“I know what a gift you are.  You’re extraordinary.  A true gentleman and a romantic with a generous heart and a playful spirit.”

I went on to tell him, “I think it’s important to tell loved ones that they are loved.  You are one of my favorite people in the world.  And I love you.”

There’s so much I admire about him.

He’s a hopeless romantic.

He is so full of love that he can’t bear to not have someone to give it to.

I love his dry sense of humor and how he is self-deprecating about the things that worry him the most.

And if something happened to me tomorrow, he knows that  he has made my life better by just being in it and that I love him dearly.

And do you know what?

He loves me too!

Isn’t that a blessing?!

I could get used to writing love letters to my family and friends.

Love Letters

This Valentine’s Day, I’m inspired to write love letters.

I know, I know, I HATE this holiday!

Why participate at all?

I guess on some level recognizing the love in my life resonates with me even if the holiday reminds me I’ve been single for fucking ever.

I was thinking this year I would write love letters to my family.

Tell them how much I love them and how much they mean to me.

Really personalize each letter.

Let my family and birth family know how much I love them.

Because they really are AMAZING people and I’m lucky to have them in my life.

And then I’d start in on my friends.

Because Lord knows that friends can be as close as family sometimes, if not closer.

I’ve got a lot of friends who support me who I’d like to send a love letter too.

What started me down this path, you ask?

Well I was on Facebook the other day watching people post public comments criticizing two people I love very much and I thought to myself that the only way to combat that kind of trash talk is to shower my friends and family with love.

And that’s exactly what I’m going to do.

Love is in the air

Love is in the air.

That’s right.

I’m just gonna go ahead and say it.

Everyone is coupling up.

First my cousin entered into wedded bliss.

And now, little Justin Bieber is MARRIED.

I don’t know why, but lately my Instagram stream and Facebook posts have been FILLED with love.

‘Tis the season?

Why not.

It’s sweet, really.

Everyone declaring their love for their partner.

I too am going to declare my love. . .

. . . for gin!

Yes, my love of gin stretches way back to the night I was with my college roommate and she drank tequila while I drank gin and tonics.

Fast forward to the end of the night and I’m holding Holly’s hair while she pukes into the toilet.

Me, I held my liquor.

Thank you GNTs.

I love you BUCKETS!

Tequila?

Not so much.

But really, I don’t have anyone to love besides my wonderful friends and family.

And that’s a rather LARGE group of people I’ll have you know.

But that’s the nice thing about love. . . the more you give it away, the more you have of it.

I do of course, have a sort of “misplaced” sense of affection.

I’m not in a relationship so I can hardly exercise my urge to rain down love and affection and (dare I say) sexy time, with another human being.

But I can certainly share the love I’ve got with all of you.

So consider this a big virtual hug from me to all my readers.

‘Tis the season to show your loved ones how much you care.

Don’t forget!

Bad at Romance

michelle1First of all, I have to put up a disclaimer that says my friend Michelle would strongly disagree with what I’m about to write.

But she always sees me in a positive light.

Still, take everything I say with a grain of salt.

What I want to say is that I am bad at romance.

Yes folks, I suck at it.

I’m like a pimple faced 13 year old boy when it comes to romance.

I’ve actually said to boyfriends, “wanna knock out a piece?” and “ready to clean the pipes?”

I can’t help myself.

I just happen to be coarse when it comes to lovemaking.

I’m not sure how to ask for it so I take a humorous approach.

And that’s not all I’m bad at.

I can’t seem to wrap my head around the mushy stuff – the romantic walks, holding hands, and intimate dinners.

My idea of romance is cooking my boyfriend a steak then “knocking out a piece” on the living room floor.  If I’m feeling really decadent, we’ll make it to the bedroom.

Yes, romance for me almost always involves sex.

Perhaps that’s why when you remove it from the equation (like with the abstinent guys I have dated) I am destined to fail.

I’ve lost my ability to communicate affection.

AND it’s frustrating.

But truthfully, do men really want to be romanced?

Isn’t a steak and a blow job enough to keep them happy?

Why improve on perfection, no?

I ASPIRE to be a better lover but I’m bad at COMMUNICATING it.

Maybe, and this is a BIG MAYBE, maybe it’s just been too long since I’ve been in love.

Perhaps I’ll fall in love and the rest will take care of itself.

That would be grand.