Is love really ever enough?

Is love really ever enough?

I think about you now. I think about you often. I think about the last time we saw each other and how it all ended on such a bad note. I walked away. Actually, I ran away — that was more like it, really. We argued about so much and there were so many things we didn’t see eye to eye on. Our conversations became heated and it all became much too hot for me. I had to walk away. I had walked away before. And then I came back and you accepted me with open arms. I wasn’t deserving but I was indeed grateful. Until it all happened again. Is love really ever enough?

Months and months passed and unbeknownst to you I thought about you, and perhaps unbeknownst to me, you thought about me. But I knew. I know. I know you never stop thinking of me. And I supposed I never stopped thinking about you either. You were always there in the back of my mind whether I realized it or not. Is love really ever enough?

I went back out there to find the perfect person. What I didn’t realize was that I was often comparing that person to you. The perfect person, in my eyes, doesn’t have a collection of cars, a yacht, a mansion, an apartment on Park Avenue. The perfect person is smart and funny, kind and caring. The perfect person accepts me for who I am — faults and all; who loves me for who I am — faults and all. The perfect person makes me laugh, keeps me on my toes, encourages me to think. The perfect person allows me to feel perfectly comfortable in my own skin, despite what my own skewed image of myself may be. We may never see eye to eye on many topics. We may never think alike, but you support me. And I know you have my back, always. What on earth could be more important?

Maybe love.

And there is love.

The question is, is love really ever enough?

I have this vision. It’s a vision of you and me. It’s not imaginary in the least but a memory that has never faded from my mind. I held your arms in my hands… your face, practically in my own, so close and yet not touching… I could feel your breath, smell the scent that is so unequivocally you, I couldn’t get enough of it… all the while your blue eyes were staring at me, your kind and gentle eyes, taking me in as mine were taking you in… and there we were making sweet, wonderful music together and I realized at that point just how relaxed and safe I was with you. There were no walls. There were no barriers. There was nothing — just you and me.

And at that moment, it dawned on me just how special it was. In a cosmic moment when chemistry and love are fueled together without trying to be contained, it becomes something so powerful and wonderful that’s it’s almost indescribable. Moments like this have been captured on paper over and over again with such descriptive words as tidalwave, fireworks, explosive and explosion and while they’re all accurate they capture but one small essence, the physical part. Not to diminish the importance of the pure, raw act itself, but what makes it all complete are the emotional as well as the intellectual components. And when the three come together it is nothing less that spectacular and often overwhelming. That one moment in time as our bodies and minds were intertwined and in sync was pure perfection — spectacular and indeed overwhelming.

I have loved before, as have you.

I have felt connections before, as have you, but I am pretty sure that none so strong as that moment. I can feel that moment, now, still. Nearly two years later I can feel the love, the passion, the chemistry… the connection… I can feel it all coming together to create something unrivalled, unparalleled, something beyond spectacular. And I wonder why?

I wonder why a few days later, after I said something to upset you and we argued ... I ran. Again… a second time. I got scared.

I really hate arguing.

I am so sorry to have upset you.

I am so sorry to have run.

I am not perfect.

You are not perfect.

But maybe together we come close.

Maybe together we come pretty damned close…

I want things to be easy and effortless and it’s not because I am lazy (though I can be with other matters — like making beds, folding laundry, emptying the dishwasher) but because I am scared. I am scared of failing. Of failure. If I don’t put in an effort, I don’t try. If I don’t try, I don’t fail. If I don’t fail. I don’t lose.

But what I have learned, most especially in the last year is that some things are worth fighting for. Some things really take an effort and hard work. I need to learn how to not run from fear… or is it out of fear? Will I ever learn?

You used to quote When Harry Met Sally. You would tell me that they were us — that we were they (them?) How many times did they try before they got it right?

How do some relationships stand the test of time while others seemingly start to unravel almost immediately, never really having a chance? Is love the common, binding thread? Or is there something else, something greater?

And then I wonder is love really enough? 

* this was originally published on Medium in July 2017