my careless contagion

The Love of My Life is a lovely book by British author Rosie Walsh. The Brits do some good writing, I must say, though I'm mostly familiar with classic English literature, the kind that makes you want to go for a walk on the heath or throw yourself off a chalk cliff. I wonder how many people who read romance novels realize the idea of romantic love is a relatively new construct. In fact, romance novels did much to popularize it. There is some argument, of course, but historians generally agree marrying for love is a new concept and not a base instinct. Romantic love, as we call it, lasts no longer than 3 years. No wonder so many marriages fail. True, love is just a choice we make, otherwise the Bible wouldn't tell us to love one another or for husbands to love their wives, etc. It's a choice. But, for most, they need the feeling of falling in love first. That chemical bond is necessary. Hormones. Attraction. A woman knows within seconds if she wants to make love to a man. M...

The first time she broke my heart was December 1996. I didn't know it at the time, but she chose the man who ended up being her husband, a man she would have in her life for 22 years and is still tied to in her heart and by their two children.  Though it was many years ago, I remember the last conversation we had on the phone. When I hung up, I knew that would be the last time I talked to her (and it almost was, as 20 years went by). I remember she got angry at me for something. I thought it was because I brought something up she didn't want to talk about. Something difficult. She stopped talking to me for eight months. She did send me a letter, however, when she learned I was moving with my parents to another state. I threw it in the trash and never responded. I was still dreadfully hurt by her. And I was angry.  The second time was much worse. After enjoying each other immensely for a few months, shortly after the first time we had a weekend together, I could feel it....

I loved her with a love that was bigger than me. It filled me up until it leaked out in messy ways, embarrassing ways, lovely ways, little ways, big ways, and forever ways. I loved her with a love that could have swayed any woman, but she was not any woman. She was a ghost by the time I realized it was all over and done with. When she left the room, I was still picking out baby names for our love child. When she put me down and put me away, I was scrawling poetry for her across the sky.  I must have been exceptionally dull or blind because she made her escape while I was dreaming about our future. When I said I wanted to marry her, she must have been terrified. When I told her I loved her, I can't even imagine how she felt. She ran from me with a purpose and speed that equaled the love I felt for her. The more I loved, the more she shrank away.   If I could love her like this — even with the sadness mixed in — how could I love her if our hearts were one? It wo...

This song gives me goosebumps. I'm not even a Keith Urban fan. Still, it's perfect. This song is about fucking in a car. I mean, if you want it to be, it clearly is. The video is almost pornographic. It reeks of sexuality. But, that's not what I heard the first time I heard this song. I heard my heartstrings playing a slightly different tune.  When you miss someone who used to be in your life, you have these really strange moments when you imagine they are with you. You could be in your car. You could be in the shower. You could be cooking dinner, watching tv, getting ready for bed, whatever. It's almost like they're there. It's that ache that tells you they're not there; it's that ache that sends you back to reality with your tail between your legs, and it's that ache that I hear in this song.  After losing the love of my life, I had those moments all the time. I thought I could conjure her. I could almost feel her lips on mine, could a...

    It was a one-two punch mourning the loss of two girls at once some days it felt like the pain would last forever I'm better now at least, some days I am I cry a lot: when I'm alone in my apartment when I've driving when I read books when I watch movies sometimes at work if I can hurry away in time always before I fall asleep and sometimes when I wake up I've lost everything hit rock bottom have wallowed in it have swallowed it become it I don't know why I persist I guess because I'm the only one who can live this life someone has to do it Is it true what they say when you hit rock bottom the only way to go is up? Now is when I find out.