Tag Archives: love

The First Dance

Posted on by under Short Stories

He awkwardly placed his hands on her waist. This was the first of many dances to come. The gym glowed under strings of fairy lights, their faint hum drowned out by the bass thump of a slow song. Crepe paper streamers swayed lazily in the warm air, and the sweet scent of punch mingled with the sharp tang of hairspray. Ethan’s palms were clammy as he tried not to grip her too tightly.

Lily tilted her head up, her hazel eyes catching the light like shards of amber. A teasing smile tugged at her lips.

“You can relax, you know,” she murmured. “I’m not going to bite.” A nervous laugh tumbled out of him. “Sorry. First-dance nerves.”

“You’re doing fine.” Her voice was low and steady, as if she’d been here a hundred times before. But truthfully, she hadn’t. Lily had turned down every boy who asked her to the fall formal. Except Ethan.

“Do you think you’ll remember this?” she asked, her words a soft challenge.

He blinked. “This? Like, this dance?”

She nodded. “Sometimes I wonder if moments like these just… fade.”

“I won’t forget,” he said. The earnestness in his voice surprised even him.

A slow, private smile spread across her face. “We’ll see.” The song changed, but she didn’t pull away. Neither did he.

It began with calculus, but their first real date came two weeks later at a small coffee shop on Main Street. Ethan had rehearsed the invitation a dozen times. In the end, it escaped his lips in a clumsy rush between derivatives and integrals.

“Do you want to, um… get coffee? Sometime?” Lily raised an eyebrow, her grin playful. “Just coffee?”

“Well… coffee and, like… hanging out. Not tutoring. A… date.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute when you’re nervous.”

“Is that a yes?”

“That’s a yes.”

On Saturday, Ethan arrived ten minutes early and sat in his car, gripping the steering wheel like a lifeline. When Lily walked through the door—her hair tucked into a loose braid, her sweater soft and cream-colored—he nearly forgot to breathe.

“You didn’t have to get here so early,” she teased, sliding into the seat across from him.

“I wasn’t that early,” he lied.

“You’re terrible at lying,” she said, her grin widening.

Conversation stumbled at first, then flowed like a river. She spoke of her photography hobby, her little brother’s dinosaur obsession, and how her mother played Earth, Wind & Fire records on Sunday mornings.

“I like listening to you talk,” Ethan said, surprising himself.

“You’re full of surprises,” she replied softly, her cheeks tinged pink.

They left the coffee shop long after the sun had set, walking slowly through the crisp December air. At her driveway, Ethan hesitated.

“Thanks for today,” he said.

“Thanks for asking.”

She kissed him then—light as snowfall, her mittened hands brushing his jacket. When she pulled away, her smile lingered.

“See? That wasn’t so scary.”

Ethan didn’t remember the drive home, only the warmth that spread through his chest and refused to fade.

By February, Ethan was spending Saturday afternoons at Lily’s house. Her mother welcomed him warmly, offering cookies and asking about his classes. Her father, though polite, kept shooting Ethan subtle, measuring looks—like a man deciding whether to hand over something fragile and irreplaceable.

“Relax,” Lily whispered in the kitchen. “He likes you. He’s just… protective.”

“Of course he is,” Ethan said. “You’re… you.”

She gave him a puzzled look. “What does that mean?”

“You’re the kind of person people protect,” he said softly. For once, Lily—bright, confident Lily—blushed.

By spring, cracks appeared.

“You’re really bailing on me for another basketball practice?” Lily’s voice was sharper than he’d ever heard it.

“It’s not like I want to,” Ethan said. “Coach is on my case about missing even one. The tournament’s in two weeks.”

“Yeah, but we were supposed to study together tonight. You promised.”

“I’ll make it up to you. I swear.”

“That’s what you said last time.”

The words hovered in the air like a storm cloud.

“I’m trying, Lily. I just—”

“I know,” she sighed. “It’s just… sometimes it feels like I’m not as important as everything else.”

“You are. You’re the most important,” he said quickly.

“Then show me.”

Two days later, he skipped practice, showed up at her door with takeout and a rented movie.

“You’re lucky I’m forgiving,” Lily said as they settled on the couch, her voice softening.

“Or maybe I’m learning,” Ethan replied.

In July, they lay on the hood of Ethan’s car, the metal warm beneath their backs, the night sky sprawling endlessly above them.

“Do you think we’ll still know each other in ten years?” Lily asked. He turned his head to study her profile, the curve of her nose lit faintly by starlight. “What kind of question is that? Of course we will.”

“People change.”

“Then we’ll change together.”

“You’re such an optimist,” she murmured.

“I’m a realist. And the reality is—I don’t ever want to stop knowing you.”

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she reached for his hand, their fingers weaving together. “Me neither.”

By senior year, they were inseparable. Lily’s acceptance letter to her dream university arrived in January. Ethan smiled for her, hugged her tight, but later that night he lay awake, staring at the ceiling. She’d be three hours away.

“You’re quiet,” Lily said one afternoon, tracing lazy circles on his palm.

“Just thinking,” Ethan admitted.

“About?”

“Next year.”

She sighed. “It’ll be hard. But not impossible.”

“I don’t want to lose this.”

“You won’t. Not if we don’t let it happen.” He nodded, trying to believe her.

At prom, they danced again. This time, Ethan wasn’t nervous. His hands rested confidently on her waist, and her arms curled around his neck.

“Remember our first dance?” Lily whispered.

“How could I forget? I nearly tripped over my own feet.”

“You’ve improved.”

“I had a good teacher.”

She laughed, the sound low and warm, then rested her head against his shoulder. This would be their last high school dance. In a few months, they would walk across a stage in black gowns and caps. She would pack her life into boxes. He would stay behind for a year, working and taking classes at the community college before transferring.

The thought made his chest ache. But as the music swelled around them, neither of them spoke of the future. There would be time for that.

Tonight, there was only them, the slow rhythm of the song, and the warmth of each other’s hands. This was the first of many dances to come.

On graduation day, they found each other in the swirl of caps and gowns and proud families.

“Guess this is it,” Ethan said softly.

“Not ‘it,’” Lily corrected. “Just… a new beginning.”

“You’re better at this whole optimistic thing than I am.”

“See? I’m rubbing off on you.”

When it was time to say goodbye for the summer, Ethan hugged her tight.

“We’ll figure it out,” Lily whispered.

“I know,” he said. “We’ve got plenty more dances left.” And he believed it.

The Sleeper

Posted on by under Short Stories

Every time I fall asleep, one year passes until I wake up again. It started on my 18th birthday. That night was ordinary—cake with too-sweet frosting, laughter echoing off the kitchen walls, a wish made over flickering candles I barely remember. I went to bed thinking about college applications and crushes, about leaving town and starting something new. I closed my eyes with the weightless hope of youth and opened them to find the calendar read June 20, 2024.

My room was dustier. The posters on the wall had faded to ghosts of their former selves. The vines outside my window had crept deeper into the cracks of the siding, pulling the house back toward the earth. I stumbled into the kitchen, heart pounding, and found news clippings on the fridge: Local Teen Still Missing, Presumed Dead. My name. My face. My family frozen in an old photo, smiling like we hadn’t yet fractured. I thought it was a dream. It had to be. But then I blinked—and the world spun forward again.

I’ve tried everything—staying awake for days, flooding my body with caffeine until my hands shook, tying myself to doorframes, sleeping in hospital lights. But it always comes. That moment when my body betrays me. When exhaustion wins. And when I wake… the world is one year older.

My parents grieved, then grew distant. My mother’s hair grayed, my father’s eyes dulled. My friends moved on, their lives arcing forward while mine stuttered like a skipped record. Technology surged ahead. Fashion shifted. The slang changed. Seasons lost their rhythm—summer felt like winter, spring was hot and wrong. The sun started rising at odd angles, like even it was tired of keeping time.

By my twenty-fifth wake-up, the world had grown quieter. Cities had begun to erode. Streets cracked and were swallowed by roots. Trees leaned harder into broken buildings. My childhood home was boarded up, condemned. I wandered the neighborhood like a ghost until a neighbor—one of the few who hadn’t moved or died—spotted me.

“You haven’t aged a day,” he whispered, backing away like I was a specter. “They say you’re cursed.”

He wasn’t wrong. Eventually, I stopped trying to explain. You can only tell someone you’re a walking paradox so many times before the disbelief calcifies into fear. Instead, I began to plan my years like missions. I left letters in library books, hid instructions in vaults only I knew how to open, buried messages under stone. I studied languages. I watched how the world tilted—how solar flares impacted climate, how artificial intelligence reshaped the economy, how the sky itself sometimes flickered. I learned to garden. Not because I’d ever see the bloom, but because I wanted to leave something living behind.

Then, on my thirty-second wake-up, I met Aria. She was standing in front of an abandoned bookstore, painting a mural of a phoenix wrapped in clock gears. I watched her for an hour before she turned and said, “You look lost. Or late.”

She believed me—without flinching. Called me her Rip Van Winkle with a clockwork heart. She asked questions no one had before: What do you miss the most? Have you ever left something behind on purpose?

That day, we built a capsule together—filled it with pieces of our lives: her sketchbook, a photo of us, my notebook scrawled with maps of possible futures. We buried it under the old bell tower, sealing it with a promise: if we found each other again, we’d dig it up.

The next time I woke, she was gone. Only a note remained, brittle and faded like old leaves: If you ever wake again, find me in Florence. That was twenty-four wake-ups ago.

I’ve searched across continents. Florence, Italy first—then Florence, Oregon. Every Florence I could find. Some didn’t exist anymore. Some had changed their names. But I searched anyway. I asked about her in dusty towns and sleek arcologies. I studied old security footage, traced murals, found fragments of the phoenix in back alleys and gallery ruins.

I’m almost seventy now, though I still look eighteen. My bones don’t ache, but my soul does. I’ve watched decades pass by the handful. I’ve outlived my friends, my parents, and the future I once imagined. But I haven’t stopped searching for her.

Tonight, as my eyes grow heavy, I hold her last note to my chest. The ink is nearly gone, but I’ve memorized every letter. I whisper her name like a prayer, willing my dreams to hold steady. Because maybe—just maybe—next year will be the one I find her. Or maybe next time I wake, the world will finally stop spinning without me.

The Observer

Posted on by under General, Love & Relationships, Short Stories

She didn’t want to be in love. Her kind fell in love only once, and heartbreak could be fatal. Yet, despite the warnings ringing in her head, she couldn’t resist the magnetic pull the first time she laid eyes on him.

His name was David and he was unlike anyone she had ever met. His smile, his laughter, the way his eyes sparkled with life – it all drew her in like a moth to a flame. She watched him from afar, hiding in the shadows of the bustling city around them.

She had come to Earth on a mission to study human behavior, but she never expected to become entangled in the complexities of human emotions. She observed David’s life, his friends, and his routines, all while keeping her identity a secret.

One fateful day, as she was watching him play catch with his nephews in the park, David approached her. It was a quiet afternoon in the city, the kind of day where the sun painted golden patterns through the leaves and the air carried the faint scent of blooming flowers. She sat alone on a weathered wooden bench, her fingers idly tracing the ridges in the wood. She wasn’t supposed to be here – not like this, not among them. But curiosity had drawn her in, stronger than any warning from her superiors. She had been watching them, these humans, studying their laughter, their conversations, their casual touches. They were so open with their emotions, so unguarded. It fascinated her. She was so captivated by them that she didn’t notice him at first, not until he sat down beside her.

“Nice day huh?” He said, stretching his arms over the back of the bench. She turned her head slightly, just enough to see him out of the corner of her eye. He had warm brown eyes, a casual smile, and a presence that radiated a kind of easy confidence.

“”I suppose,” she answered carefully.

“You don’t sound convinced.” He chuckled, tilting his head as if trying to read her expression. “First time here?” She hesitated. She had spent months blending in, learning the nuances of human speech and movement, but she never expected to noticed – let alone engaged in conversation.

“You could say that,” she meekly replied after a few moments. “Hi, I’m David.” He extended his hand towards her. A simple gesture, yet she briefly hesitated.Physical touch was a level of intimacy that her people reserved for their mates. But I came here to understand them, didn’t I? So she placed her hand in his. “Have I seen you around her before?” She softly shrugged her shoulders as she stared down at her feet. His warmth pleasantly surprised her. A rush of something unfamiliar unfurled in her chest. She quickly pulled her hand away, hoping not to insult his friendliness. David seemed to not notice.

“You got a name?” He asked, still smiling at her. For a split second, she considered lying. A false identity would be safer. But before she could give it further thought, she blurted out, “Zara.”

“Nice to meet you, Zara.” They exchanged smiles again and leaned back on the bench to watch as life in the park went on around them. Silence stretched out between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. David seemed to content to just sit there, watching the people pass by. She studied him out of the corner of her eye. Something about him unsettled her. Not in a way that made her feel threatened – but in a way that made her feel seen.

“So,” he said after a while, “what brings you to the park today?” She searched for an answer that wouldn’t reveal too much. His friendly nature and genuine curiosity about her drew her in. “I like watching people.” A small sense of pride poured over her. He laughed. “That’s not creepy at all.” She frowned. “It’s not meant to be.”

“I’m just messing with you,” he said, nudging her lightly with his elbow. The casual contact sent another ripple through her whole body. She had spent so much time observing humans from the shadows, but now, sitting next to one – talking to one – she realized something she hadn’t before. Being near him felt different. Being seen by him felt different. And for the first time since she arrived on Earth, she wasn’t just studying humans. She was experiencing them.

David stood up, stretched, and waved at his nephews. “Well Zara, I think I’ll be coming back to this park more often. Maybe I’ll see you again.” She watched him walk away, her pounding against her chest in a way that had nothing to do with fear. She hadn’t come here looking for a connection. She knew she couldn’t afford it. But something told her she would be coming back to the park too.

Days turned into weeks then months, her and David’s connection deepened. She learned about his dreams, his fears, and his past. She shared stories of her home planet, which fascinated David. Their conversations flowed effortlessly, transcending the boundaries of species. As their friendship grew stronger, so did her feelings for David. She knew the danger of falling in love, the risk it posed to her very existence. But she couldn’t help herself, love was an irresistible force that pulled her closer to David with each passing day.

One evening, under the vast expanse of a star filled sky, David confessed his love for her. She hesitated, torn between her feelings for him and the immense weight of the potential consequences. But she couldn’t deny her heart any longer, and professed her love for him too. Their love was unconventional, to say the least. Her alien physiology and vulnerability to heartbreak made their relationship fragile, yet filled with passion and depth that neither of them could have imagined. One night beneath the soft glow of the moon, her and David lay side by side, their fingers intertwined. The night air was warm, filled with the quiet hum of the city in the distance. But in this moment, they were in a world of their own. She traced gentle patterns along David’s arm, marveling at the warmth of his skin. She had studied humans for most of her adult life, observed their behaviors, their emotions. But feeling him beneath her fingertips was different. It was real, it was terrifying.

“Are you afraid?” David asked softly, his voice a whisper against the nightlife around them. She turned to face him, her luminous eyes reflecting the starlight. “Yes,” she admitted, “But not of you.”

His hand came up cup her cheek, his thumb brushing against her skin. “The what?” She exhaled, her breath shaky. “Of this. Of what I feel for you. My kind, we love only once. And if we lose that love…” She hesitated, afraid to say the words aloud. David’s expression softened with understanding. He pulled her closer, his lips brushing against her forehead. “Then I won’t let you lose me,” he murmured in between the soft kisses he planted on her cheeks. The space between them disappeared as he kissed her softly at first, as if testing the fragile boundary between them. But when she responded, pressing her body against his, the tenderness melted away, leaving something deeper, something more electric.

She gasped as sensations overwhelmed her. Her species was not accustomed to touch in the way humans were; their emotions were felt on a level so intense that even the slightest brush of skin to skin contact could send ripples of lust through them. And David was like fire against her skin. He moved with care, his hands exploring, learning her body with reverence. Every touch sent waves of passion through her, and she responded in kind, letting herself give in to the instinct, to the connection that had been building between them since the moment they met.

As they came together, she felt something unlike anything she had ever know. A merging of more than just bodies, but of souls, of something ancient and powerful that transcended species, planets, the differences between them, and even logic itself. David held her through it all, his touch grounding her as her body trembled with the force of her passion erupting. When it was over, they remained wrapped in each other’s arms, their breath mingling in the stillness around them. She pressed her forehead to his, her fingers tracing the lines of his face as if trying to memorize every detail. “Now I know,” she whispered.

“Know what?” David asked, his voice still laced with the remnants of their passion. She smiled, brushing a kiss against his lips. “That love isn’t meant to be feared.”

But as their love grew, so did the danger. Her commander discovered her emotional entanglement with a human, and warned of the danger it posed. Her heart, already filled to brim with love for David, now bore the weight of an impossible choice. She stood at the edge of the rooftop, gazing up at the night sky. The stars shimmered like distant memories, calling her home. Behind her, David stood in silence, waiting for her to speak. She had been quiet since receiving the transmission from High Command.

“They want me to return home,” she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. David swallowed hard. He had known this moment could come, but that didn’t make it any easier. “What happens if you don’t go?”

She turned to face him, her luminous eyes filled with something between fear and longing. “Defiance isn’t taken lightly among my kind. If I refuse, I may never be allowed to go back home. I would be exiled, forever.” David stepped closer, his hands gliding gently over her arms. “But if you go back, what happens to us?”

She closed her eyes. The thought of leaving him, of severing the bond they had built, was unbearable. If she left, if she couldn’t be with him, she would never love again. And without that love, her life would end shortly afterwards. She took his hand in hers and pressed it against her chest. “If I leave, I lose you. If I stay, I lose them,” her voice wavered, “Either way, I lose something.”

David cupped her face, his thumb tracing soft circles on her cheek. “Then stay,” he whispered, “Stay with me. We’ll make a life here, together.” She searched his eyes, feeling the depth of his love. A love that had defied every law of the universe. For the first time in her life, she made a choice not based on duty, not on fear, but on her heart.

“I’m staying,” she said, the words tasted like freedom to her. David pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as if afraid she might disappear if he let go. She burrowed into his chest, as if she was reassuring him that she wouldn’t. She was his now, as much as he was hers. And as the stars watched from above, she turned her back on the life she once knew, choosing love over duty, the unknown over certainty, and a future that was truly hers to write. She knew the risks, but couldn’t imagine a life without David in it. Together, they faced the odds, navigating the uncharted waters of interspecies love. Their bond only strengthened as they defied the odds, proving that love could conquer even the greatest of challenges.

Love (As Seen Through the Eyes of a Hopelessly, Romantic, Cynical Realist)

Posted on by under Love & Relationships, Poetry

So I’ve been sitting at my laptop for a few hours, staring at a blank screen on WordPress while thinking about what I wanted to write about today. In that time, I realized that not only do I have a toothache, but I also really don’t have anything to rant about at this time (hopefully, that’ll change sometime soon). Since I couldn’t come up with a topic to write about, I decided to share another poem. Hope you enjoy…

They say love is a many splendor thing
I think pain and heartache are what love brings
Love is supposed to be the best emotion of all
I believe love is like taking a long fall
Why are so many people falling victim to this shit
Like love is the only reason that we exist
I tend to agree with the L.O.X. on this
Money, power and respect are at the top of my list
I’m thinking love falls in the middle, around 5 or 6
And if you see Cupid, tell him I said, “Flip bricks!”
I know you’re wondering what could’ve happened to me
The romantic trauma I suffered must’ve been devastating
It’s nothing like that; I’ve just come to my senses
And the mere mention of love sets off all my defenses
I’ve been in love a time or two
And I believe that love makes men into fools
We end up in stores holding purses and shit
And answering questions like, “Do I look good in this?”
Maybe it’s not love I have a problem with
Just the senseless rigmarole that comes with it
Who really has the patience to date nowadays
It seems like everyone’s just out to get laid
I’m looking for that deep down, butterfly giving, soul stirring love
The kind that makes you think that person was sent from the heavens above
I want a soul mate, not a fucking booty call
I want somebody who’s down to be there through it all
A partner in all that life brings, whether it’s good or bad
Someone who’s an instant pick-me-up whenever I’m sad
But since no one else in the world is looking for that
I guess me will love I because I’ll always love me back

dead-cupid

Need Versus Want

Posted on by under Love & Relationships

Good afternoon world! I hope this blog finds you in good health and even better spirits. As you can see I’m trying to do better about writing on a more consistent basis. Its highly doubtful that I’ll be able to keep up my current pace, but I will try. Now, I know you’re looking at the title for today’s rant and wondering what exactly could I be talking about. Well, let’s dive right in.

As I was sitting at my laptop, playing around on Facebook, I came across this picture posted on a friend’s timeline…
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The picture was accompanied with the caption: “Why only when their life is a mess?” Now, this wasn’t the first time that I’ve come across this picture, or some variation of it. I totally agree with what it says, I actually posted this picture on my own timeline in October…
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My issue is with the question posed along with the picture.

There’s a reason why a man NEEDS a woman when times are bad. That’s because that’s when a man NEEDS someone that has his back, someone that’s holding him down through thick and thin. He NEEDS someone encouraging him to keep fighting. He NEEDS someone reminding him of his worth, because the world has found a way to knock him down and shake his confidence. He NEEDS the strength that only the love of a woman can provide at that time. When things are going good, he WANTS a woman because he WANTS to share his success with someone that cares about him. There’s a difference. The thing most women don’t realize is that in order to be the woman he WANTS, you have to be the woman he NEEDS.

That’s not to say that women are expendable when a man has everything and invaluable when he has nothing. In the mind and heart of real man, the NEED of a good woman when he’s down on his luck and the WANT of a good woman when he’s on top of the world are one in the same. Its all about the wanting/needing someone in your life that can provide what the world doesn’t give. A man always needs a woman to balance him out, no matter what the situation is. There are certain things that we just aren’t capable of doing for ourselves. Now, I know everybody’s mind almost instantly wants to take that last sentence with a sexual undertone, but its much deeper than that.

By nature, the vast majority of men are hunters and providers. We have the innate ability and drive to go out and make something happen. By nature, the vast majority of women are nurturers. They’re born with the instincts to take whatever the world gives them and make it into what they need. They’re like two sides of the same coin, you need both to truly succeed. That’s the reason why men that have the love of a good woman feel like they can do anything.

Now, I understand why my friend posed the question. She, like most women in my generation, have been hurt by men. They’ve gone out of their way to try and be the woman that a man NEEDS, only to watch that guy walk out on them. Or cheat, or commit one of a number of transgressions that have the ability to monumentally shake a person’s faith in the opposite sex, and maybe even themselves. And it sucks. Trust me, I know. It sucks to open yourself up like that and see it blow up in your face. But the thing that needs to be remembered is that it takes more than a dick to be a man, just like it takes more than a vagina and breasts to be a woman. You have to look at the content and character of a person before you can fully determine whether or not they’re worthy of your most precious gift, your heart.

That’s all I got for today, I think. So until next time, peace and love…

Love, Marriage & Everything In Between… (Just My Thoughts & Feelings)

Posted on by under Love & Relationships

Good morning world! I hope this blog finds you in good health and even better spirits. I know its been a while since I actually wrote to you guys, but I haven’t had much to say. Today, we’re gonna talk about probably one of my favorite and least favorite subjects, love. I know what you’re thinking, “How can it be a favorite and least favorite at the same damn time?” That’s simple, keep reading and you’ll find out.

Anybody that truly knows me knows I’m true romantic at heart. I’m the guy that watches romantic comedies. Not because I’m being forced to by my girlfriend/wife, but because I like to see people in love. That and Hollywood’s warped perception of the dynamics of romantic relationships is the funniest thing ever. But that’s a topic for another day, maybe.

As I sit here on this December morning at the ripe “old” age of 32, I find myself recounting my romantic history. I can count on a single hand the number of SERIOUS relationships I’ve had in my life. Of course, like any reasonably attractive male in America, I’ve had my fair share of casual relationships. And I’ve had more than my fair share of bullshit interactions with women to fill in the time in between something with a little more substance. But as I sit here and think of those handful of true romances, I realize that I’ve only been in love once in my life. That’s not to say that I didn’t have very strong feelings for all of the women that were more than just bit players in the grand production that is my life. Hell, I can say with a certain amount of certainty that I loved (and in some cases might still love) every woman that has played a significant role in my own personal Rom-Com. But, so far, there has only been one woman that I can truly say I was IN love with.

I think a lot of people don’t know the difference between LOVING someone and being IN LOVE with someone. That could be one of the reasons why the divorce rate in this country is so damn high. Who knows. I wish I could put into words what it means to be in love, but the experience is different for each person. So, I’ll try my best to describe what being in love was like for me. Hopefully, it’ll help. First off, all the cliches that you hear were true for me. I found myself thinking about her first thing in the morning and as I laid my head down each night. I was ready, willing and able to do anything that would bring a smile to her face. I placed her above myself in the hierarchy of my life, almost to my detriment at times. I loved her daughter as if she was my own. I lost track of “me” and focused solely on “us.” I know you’re probably thinking none of these things sound especially monumental, but they are to me. I’m probably one of the most self-centered people you will ever meet, but that’s because I only have myself to worry about. So for me to put someone else’s wants and needs ahead of my own is enormously significant.

For as grateful as I am to be able to say that I was in love with someone at some point in my life (because everybody is not that fortunate), I think it came a little too early in my life. I was in my mid-20’s and still smelling myself. While a part of me was ready to settle down the other half wanted to be on some Wilt Chamberlain type shit. Talk about a conflict of interest. I’m not sure if this internal strife led to the destruction of my relationship with this young lady, but I know it has kept me from truly committing to anyone since then. That’s not to say that I haven’t had offers, but I knew that I still needed to work on me a little bit more. Its hard to wholly give yourself to one person when you’re still trying to smash every PYT that walks past you. I’d rather be alone than be a cheater, I do have some kind of moral fiber.

So here I am, awaiting the chance to take on the next great adventure that my life has to offer me, married life and parenthood. And while I can have the former without the latter, I’m not one for reversing that. Did I lose some of you? Let me say it differently then. I’m at point in my life (and probably have been for the better part of 2-3 years) where I’m ready to be a husband and father. Its one thing I’ve never tried my hand at and I’m anxious and excited to do. And while I would be able to live with being a husband only (even though its not my preference), I can’t say thing about only being a father. No disrespect to any of you that had children out of wedlock, but that’s just not who I am. I was raised to believe that the title of husband was mandatory to become a father. I know that’s biologically correct (I’m not an idiot), but you know what I mean. Like I said before, I do have some kind of moral fiber. Once again, no disrespect to those of you that took a different path to parenthood.

I was raised to think that being a husband was the second greatest position a man could ever hold, second only to being a father. That’s why I have the hardest time understanding men that shy away from stepping up to the plate, especially when it comes to their children. I understand shit happens, relationships fall apart, condoms break, accidents happen. But if your actions resulted in the creation of a life (the only miracle that humans can pull off), be adult enough to shoulder the responsibility. Scratch that. Saying it like that makes it sound like a burden. While the financial, emotional and physical strain of having kids in today’s society might be daunting, no kid should ever be viewed as albatross that you’re forced to bear. Having kids is a privilege. A privilege that some people take for granted. If you don’t believe me, just ask someone that’s trying to have kids with no success.

I dream of the day that I have a son (even though I know I’m going to have a daughter. Karma is an evil bitch). I daydream about playing catch, teaching him to tie a tie, etc. I know it sounds like a bunch of sappy shit and some of you might not believe me, but these are thoughts that run rampant in my head. I pray on daily basis for the opportunity to be a husband and father. I just don’t get how everybody doesn’t feel like that. Okay, I can understand not wanting to be married, its not for everybody. I get that. But what kind of monster doesn’t want to be a parent? Especially if you already have children? Seriously, if you can’t get excited about being in your child’s life and seeing them become the person that God intends for them to be, you should kill yourself. Twice. Maybe three times just to be certain that you did it right.

My dreams of fatherhood doesn’t end with just me and my child. I have large scale dreams of grand and opulent wedding that all my family members and closest friends attend. My hours of REM sleep are spent envisioning a life that I want. Tasks and duties that would seem small and mundane to those that are already married or have no soul are the things I pine for. Like I said, I’m a romantic. While most people pray for a million dollars, I pray to meet the woman I’m going to spend my life with. I wish for a million dollars too, but I want the woman more.

I think that’s all I have for today. Actually its not, but where my train of thought is heading now would better be served as a separate entry. So maybe we’ll make that happen tomorrow, but I’m not making any promises. So until the next time we meet, peace and love…

Love (As Seen Through My Eyes)

Posted on by under General, Love & Relationships

Wow! I never thought that I would be sitting down and writing about a topic as enigmatic as love. Especially, if I wasn’t writing poetry about love (that seems to come naturally to me, when I don’t have writer’s block, that is). But, a friend wanted me to express my thoughts on the subject, so here we go. I might post the poem I wrote that has the same title (I have to rewrite the end of it first).

Love is the biggest contradiction known to man. Before anybody gets their feathers ruffled up, let me explain. True love is probably one of the strongest forces known to man, while at the same time being one of the most fragile. Love can make you feel like you’re invincible, and turn around and instill a feeling of insignificance. Love is a chemical reaction to environmental stimuli, a learned response and an ingrained part of our psyche.

And love manifests itself in, what seems to be, a million different ways. Real quick, write down all the things and people that you can unequivocally say that you love. Now, I’m not talking about things you like to do. I’m talking about things and people that you can’t imagine your life without. These don’t have to be things or people that are still in your life today, all that matters is that the emotion existed towards them. Go ahead, I’ll wait…

After a few minutes, my list is 16 items long. But that’s neither here nor there.

And all of us have been in love at least once in our lives. Some of us are lucky to still be with that person, some are not. Some people want to believe that love is the cause of some great pain. I have to disagree. Love, in it’s truest and most pure form, could never cause the kind of damage that it has been known to be blamed for. Heartache is more the result of people not being honest in their relationships.

The biggest thing I want everybody to remember is that you can’t give up on love. Just because you’ve had some problems in the past, that doesn’t mean there isn’t somebody out there for you to love. And don’t think you can live your life without love. Love is an essential part of having a healthy, happy life.

That’s all I got for right now. I’m having a hard time getting my words to come out in clear, concise sentences, so I’m gonna put myself on pause for right now. I’ll try to add more as I make sense out of what’s in my head.

Be on the lookout for the poem bearing the same name as this post. I should have it up by the end of the week (I hope).