Let me count the ways

How Do I Love Thee? by Elizabeth Barrett Browning is a poem my mother would often recite to me when I was a boy. The line she would repeat was, "How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach when feeling out of sight." She may have been paraphrasing it because I remember it a little bit different than that. It could be that my childish mind remembered it differently, too. 

I think of that first line today, only slightly different. When I think of the girl I love and the man she has had in her life for the last 22 years, I think of that line, "Let me count the ways." Let me count the ways I've been bested, one-upped, beaten, however you want to say it, by this man. 

First, let me say I know what I am. I know who I am. I'm aware of myself. I'm not trying to cut myself down. I'm only being realistic. 

So, let me count the ways. 

The way they met. His confidence and aggressiveness with her, showing her that he wanted to be with her. His pursuit of her. The first time they had sex. Every other time they had sex. Every time he woke up next to her beautiful body. Every time he heard the thoughts coming out of her beautiful mind. His athleticism. He was a professional baseball player. He's a boxer. He golfs. You name it. His body is made of steel, whereas mine is made of gummy bears. 

Let's continue. The biggest way he beat me was he got the girl, the girl of my dreams. But he also got I don't even know how many other girls. He truly lived the macho dream of having an abundance of women. At least one woman told him she'd be up for it anytime, anywhere. That's every man's fantasy. He got the good girl to take care of hearth and home, and he got his playthings. 

The good girl who stayed at home gave him two wonderful children, the two most important people in his life. Watching her with his children must have made him so proud; it must have made him feel like a god. They shared so much time together. They had summers off to enjoy each other. They had vacations. They had adventures. They shared friends and family. They had a perfect life together. 

Watching your children grow up as you stand side by side is a tremendous blessing. If that person standing next to you is your best friend, then you're blessed even more. He had an abundance of blessings.  

He's the big, strong man that you're supposed to be. He's built like a brick wall. He does all those things that manly men are supposed to do. He's had the life. He's had the girl. He's had the girl in every way and every position he wanted her. And she would have done anything for him. You can't buy loyalty like that. He has her wrapped around his finger. Even now, a year and a half after separation, her heart cries out for him. Even after all of his infidelity, she still wants him. He is still her forever. 

I am humbled. I am thoroughly beaten. Humiliated. I admit it. My palms turn up as I shrug and walk away. 

Life has shown me many unexpected things in many unexpected ways. This may be one of the most amazing. The love this woman has for this man is absolutely perfect. It's an undying love made harder by adversity. A woman who puts herself into her man — a woman who loves like this with all she has — that's a hell of a woman. Men go to war over women like that. They write big, expansive novels about them. They cross oceans for them, rocket themselves into orbit for them. If I could have the adoration of a woman like that, I don't know what I would do. Oh, no, that's not true. I know what I would do. I would crumble and weep. I would crumble and weep because I am absolutely, utterly unworthy of a love like that. That is real love, my friends, the way this woman has stood by her man. I would feel incredibly humble to be loved by a woman like that. 

Love runs hot at first. Then it settles into your bones. It becomes stronger and stronger every day you spend with someone. It's under the surface; you don't have to speak it as much. You know it's there. You feel it as strong as a swift current in your blood. It rages against anything that wants to tear your lover from your grasp. It flares in an instant, races with the wind like a wildfire when it needs to. It can gallop faster than a racehorse when reaching out to the object of its affection. That's this woman's love. 

I'm okay with knowing I was beaten. I'm okay with knowing he got all those things. My life didn't go that direction; there's nothing I can do about it. But, it's not okay the way he treated such a lovely creature, such a perfect gift that was his wife and lover. 

Love doesn't care; I know. Love loves anyway. The harder the battle, the more it loves. I have never felt love like that. But I feel blessed having witnessed it. I feel blessed just knowing that a woman who loves like that is out there.