Tag Archives: romance

The Crush

Posted on by under Short Stories

He loved every minute of her company. If only she knew he existed. That was the tragic poetry of it, really.

Evan Carter had spent thirteen years in the same classroom orbit as Lily Ramirez. Thirteen years of shared pencils, shared group projects, shared fire drills and field trips and fluorescent-lit mornings. From the sticky tables of kindergarten to the scuffed tile floors of senior year, she had been there: three seats to the left, two rows up, sometimes behind him, sometimes ahead. Always close enough to see. Never close enough to touch.

In kindergarten, she wore her hair in crooked pigtails and cried on the first day of school. He had offered her his blue crayon. She had taken it without looking at him.

In fourth grade, she beat him at the spelling bee. He’d clapped the loudest.

In eighth grade, she tripped during the relay race, and he ran back to help her up. She thanked him politely—“Thanks… Evan, right?”—and the way she said his name had kept him awake for three nights.

By junior year, Lily Ramirez had become the kind of girl teachers described as “bright” and classmates described as “out of your league.” She laughed easily, spoke confidently, and somehow managed to make even a wrinkled school hoodie look like it belonged on a magazine cover.

Evan, on the other hand, had perfected the art of invisibility. He wasn’t unpopular. He wasn’t awkward in any spectacular way. He was simply… there. The dependable lab partner. The quiet guy who got good grades. The one who said “nice shot” at basketball games but never took the shot himself.

He told himself it didn’t matter. Loving her quietly was enough. Being near her was enough. Until it wasn’t.

The realization came in March of senior year. Graduation banners were beginning to be hung in the hallways. College acceptance letters were discussed like trading cards. People who had known each other since they still believed in cooties were suddenly making promises about staying in touch.

Evan watched Lily at her locker, laughing with her friends, sunlight slipping through the high windows and catching in her hair. In a few weeks, she’d be gone—to a university two states away. And he would still be the boy who never said anything.

The thought hit him like a slammed locker door. If he didn’t try now, he would carry this silence for the rest of his life.

That night, he lay on his bed staring at the ceiling. What’s the worst that could happen? She says no. But another voice whispered: What if she doesn’t even know who you are? The idea terrified him more than rejection.

The next morning, he made a decision. Not tomorrow. Not after prom. Not at graduation when emotions were high and everything felt cinematic. Today.

He spotted her during lunch, sitting beneath the old oak tree near the edge of the courtyard—the same tree where their class had taken a group photo in second grade. She was alone, flipping through a book, sunlight dancing across the pages.

His legs felt like borrowed equipment as he walked toward her.

“This is it,” he said to himself. “This is the moment.”

“Hey, Lily.”

She looked up. And smiled. Not the polite smile she gave strangers. Not the distracted smile she gave teachers. A real one. Warm. Almost… relieved?

“Evan,” she said easily, as if she’d been saying his name her whole life. “I was wondering how long it would take you.”

His brain stalled.

“…What?”

She closed her book. “I’ve been in the same class as you since kindergarten. You really think I don’t notice when you’re staring at me during assembly?”

His face burned. “I— I wasn’t—”

“You were,” she said, amused. “And you always let me borrow your notes in math. And you always volunteer to be my lab partner when no one else does.”

“That’s because—” He stopped. There was no point pretending now. “Because I like you.”

The words hung between them, fragile and electric. She studied him, and for a terrifying second he thought he’d misread everything.

Then she laughed softly. “Evan, I’ve liked you since eighth grade.”

He blinked. “You… what?”

She shrugged, suddenly shy. “You ran back to help me when I fell during the relay race. Everyone else kept running. You didn’t.”

“That was just—”

“Kind,” she finished. “It was kind.”

Silence settled between them again, but it wasn’t heavy anymore. It felt like standing at the edge of something new.

“I kept waiting,” she admitted. “I thought you’d say something eventually.”

“I thought you didn’t know I existed.”

She tilted her head. “You’ve always existed to me.”

The simplicity of it made his chest ache.

He swallowed. “So… would you maybe want to go out with me? Before graduation? There’s that little café downtown—you know, the one with the fairy lights?”

Her smile widened. “I was hoping you’d ask.”

“Is that a yes?”

“That’s a yes.”

For a moment, neither of them moved. The world didn’t burst into applause. The sky didn’t shift colors. The bell didn’t ring at some perfect cinematic second. But something changed. Years of quiet glances and almost-moments crystallized into something real. As they stood up together, walking back toward the building, their shoulders brushed. And this time, neither of them pretended it was an accident.

Sometimes love isn’t about grand gestures. Sometimes it’s about finally finding the courage to say what’s been true all along. And sometimes, the person you think hasn’t noticed you— has been waiting for you to speak all along.

The Secret Admirer

Posted on by under Short Stories

Her heart pounded as she looked at the card attached to the bouquet of flowers on her desk. The flowers were peonies: blush pink, her favorite, though she couldn’t remember ever mentioning that at work. The card was thick, cream-colored, and smelled faintly of ink and something warm, like cedar.

For the woman who always notices the light.—A.

She sat back in her chair, pulse loud in her ears. No last name. No explanation. Just the confident curve of the letter A.

Around her, the office hummed on: keyboards clacking, the copier groaning, someone laughing near the break room. No one seemed to notice that her world had tilted.

“Pretty,” her coworker Jenna said, leaning over the cubicle wall. “From who?”

“That’s the problem,” she said, forcing a smile. “I don’t know.”

That night, she replayed every recent interaction like a detective at a cork board. There was Mark from accounting, who lingered too long when he talked. There was Evan, her downstairs neighbor, who always held the door and asked about her day. There was even Daniel, her ex, who had an unfortunate habit of resurfacing when she least expected him.

The next day, another gift appeared. This time, a book she’d once loved in college, slipped into her tote bag sometime between her morning meeting and lunch. Inside the cover, in the same ink:

You looked happiest when you talked about this.—A.

Her skin prickled. Someone was paying attention. Really paying attention.

She began to notice things after that: small, unsettling things. Her coffee order waiting for her at the café before she’d reached the counter. A playlist emailed to her work address titled For the Commute Home, filled with songs she loved but never shared publicly. Notes appeared in places that felt too intimate: her windshield, her mailbox, once even tucked into the pocket of her coat. Always unsigned. Always thoughtful.

Her curiosity curdled into obsession. She watched reflections in windows, lingered in hallways, scrutinized smiles. Every kindness felt suspicious. Every glance lingered a second too long.

When the evidence began to point toward Evan, her neighbor, she felt a strange mix of relief and disappointment. He knew her routines. He could access her building. He fit, almost too neatly. She decided to test the theory. One evening, she mentioned, loudly, pointedly, that she hated lilies. The next morning, a single lily waited on her desk. Her stomach dropped.

That night, she knocked on Evan’s door, heart racing. When he answered, surprised and barefoot, she saw genuine confusion in his eyes as she accused him. He laughed, then stopped when he saw her face.

“I’m flattered,” he said gently, “but it’s not me.”

She went home shaking, certainty crumbling.

The following week, the messages grew bolder.

“You’re getting close,” one note teased.

“I like watching you think, “another said.

Fear threaded through her fascination now. She considered going to HR, to the police, but how could she explain that nothing explicitly threatening had happened? That someone was loving her from the shadows?

Then came the invitation. An envelope slid under her apartment door, heavy and final.

“I owe you the truth,” it read. “Tomorrow. 7 p.m. The park on Willow Street.”

She didn’t sleep.

At 6:55, she sat on a cold bench beneath a flickering lamppost, every sense sharpened. The park was mostly empty, dusk pooling between the trees. Footsteps approached. She stood. The man who stopped a few feet away was… ordinary. Mid-thirties, maybe. Brown jacket. Nervous hands. A stranger.

“I’m sorry,” she said immediately. “I think you have the wrong person.”

He swallowed. “I don’t.”

She stared at him, waiting for recognition that never came. “Do I know you?”

“No,” he said softly. “That’s the point.”

Her breath caught. “Then why?”

He took a careful step closer, stopping when she stiffened. “I work across the street from your office. Third floor. I see you every morning by the window before anyone else arrives. You always pause, just for a second, and look outside like you’re reminding yourself of something.”

Cold crept up her spine.

“I noticed,” he continued, voice trembling, “because I do the same thing. I started wondering who you were. Then I noticed the way you listen when people talk. The way you smile at nothing. I didn’t mean for it to go this far.”

“You followed me,” she said.

“I watched,” he corrected, then flinched. “I know how that sounds. I never wanted to scare you.”

“You did,” she said, steadier than she felt.

He nodded, shame flooding his face. “I won’t bother you again. I just… needed you to know it was real. That I was real. That it wasn’t a game.”

Silence stretched between them, heavy and complicated.

Finally, she said, “You don’t know me.”

“I know,” he said. “But I wanted to. Still do.”

He left then, disappearing down the path, not once looking back. She stood alone under the lamplight, heart still pounding, but differently now. The mystery was solved, yet nothing felt settled. Somewhere between being seen and being unknown, something fragile had broken open.

The next morning, there were no flowers on her desk. She found herself strangely aware of the window as she sat down, of the light beyond it, and for the first time, she didn’t look away.

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 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

Ain’t It Funny? Don’t Ya Think?

Posted on by under Love & Relationships

Once again, good evening world! Hopefully, this blog finds you in good health and even better spirits. I know what you’re thinking, “Didn’t he just post a poem because he said he couldn’t think of anything to write about?” Well, you’re absolutely right! I literally just posted a poem and then I was struck by inspiration. At least I think it was inspiration, it might’ve been a stoke. I’m pretty sure it wasn’t a stroke because I still have full control of all my bodily functions and don’t feel particularly strokish right now. But I digress…

Now I know you’re wondering, what kind of inspiration could hit me in just a few seconds. Well, that’s the funny part. I literally was hit with a spark all because of a Facebook notification (gotta love FB sometimes). Once again, I know what you’re thinking, “What kind of notification was that?” It wasn’t so much about the notification itself as it was the person that caused it to happen. Yes ladies and gentlemen, this is another diatribe about a woman that has caught my eye.

Before I begin, let me warn you. Unlike most of my entries, this is completely off-the-cuff. Not sure what that means? Well, basically that means I’m prone to repeating myself and some of thoughts might not be completely coherent. But it will all be grammatically correct, I’m not a monster. Furthermore, because I haven’t taken the time to mentally outline my thoughts, everything I say write will be completely unfiltered. So there’s a good chance I might say write something that is potentially embarrassing to me, my loved ones and quite possibly the subject of this post. Still wanna keep reading? Good, let’s get started…

Have you ever interacted with someone and they find a way to completely ensnare you with even the simplest of things? Neither had I until I had the good fortune of coming across this lady. Since we “met” last year, I can’t seem to get her out of my mind. Please believe me when I say that no woman has ever had me this enthralled without doing something completely spectacular to capture my attention. I find myself thinking about her on a pretty regular basis. There are songs that remind me of her and when i hear them, I listen to them over and over again. I ain’t trying to say I’m in love, but damn, this is more than the average “She’s pretty easy on the eyes” reaction that most women get from me nowadays.

Up until this point, I’ve been pretty vague about the circumstances of my connection to this woman. Let me stop that now. As of today, we have yet to physically meet. We’re FB friends, we’ve shared a few text message conversations, talked on the phone a few times but I have yet to lay my eyes on her. And that kills me. If this woman has managed to capture my heart pique my interest purely through electronic communication, what chance do I stand in person? We all know that I’m nothing more than a quivering mass of mushy, romantic ass, man jelly. What happens when my real-life version of the movie You’ve Got Mail comes to climatic scene where the two protagonists meet? What if she doesn’t meet my standards I don’t meet her standards? What if she’s not interested in me the same way? If that was to happen, I seriously think my heart would push its way out of my chest cavity and commit Harakiri on the spot. I know that sounds a bit dramatic, but what else would you expect from me? And if you don’t know what Harakiri is, well that’s what Wikipedia is for.

For those that know me (or have at least read a few of the entries in this blog), you know that I think of myself as the world’s largest walking contradiction. For just about every adjective you could use to describe me, you could also use the opposite and still be correct. This completely asinine and annoying character trait is most prevalent when examining my social/romantic life (or lack thereof at the present moment). When I’m around a group of people, I’m the life of the party. I’m outgoing, charming, witty, all that good shit. But let me get around a woman that I’m digging and I clam the fuck up. I start shaking like a leaf and shit, its just not a good look for me. I swear I hate that about myself.

Now, I know this is my first time mentioning, let alone devoting an entire post, to this woman. And there’s a very good reason for that. I’ve been trying my hardest failing miserably to put my thoughts and feelings about this woman into words. If there’s one thing I can do, its wax poetic about pretty much anything that comes to mind. Compound that with my mile-wide romantic streak, and you would think there would be volumes of sonnets written to and inspired by this woman. But there’s not. She literally has my silly ass tongue-tied. And that truly sucks because I have not been able to fully express how I feel. Hence the reason for this entry.

Now, that’s all I’m gonna share with you guys today. That’s not to say that my thoughts of this woman aren’t a little more in depth, but I have my reasons for not wanting to put them all out there right now. Mainly because I don’t want to scare her off if and/or when she decides to read this. 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).