June 30, 2013

The Importance of Love.

I've been feeling this way for a few weeks. It's totally irrational, ill-timed, and inconvenient. But the heart wants what the heart wants, right?

I talked to my friend Jane Taylor, worked though my feelings… And then... 

I called him.

"I have something I have to tell you." I proceeded to sputter and stumble over my words, as I do in these moments.

And in his style, he said, "What is it? Fuck, spit it out, already!"

"Dude. I'm in love with you."

Do you know how fucking scary it is to work up the courage to tell someone that you love them without any expectation of him saying it back to you? It's scary.

But I fucking did it anyway. 

He didn't say it back, and I wasn't expecting him to. After all, we'd not known each other very long. Or very well. I know he probably feels the same way for me, but is too scared to admit it and probably doesn't know what to do with the feelings. And, the fucker is an obsessive perfectionistic planner. I'm sure he started practically planning our wedding when I told him this and then freaked the fuck out after we got off the phone.

Anyway, enough about him. He's just the fucker I'm in love with.

So why did I do it? Why did I call this man up and tell him that I love him even though I knew that he was most likely NOT going to say it back to me?

Because - when it comes to love - what's most important isn't necessarily that who you love says it back to you… What's most important is that you're able to feel it and express it. It means that you're human, that you're alive, and that you're living from a place of courage, vulnerability, truth, and openness rather than from a place of fear.

And that's why I called the fucker up and told him I was in love with him.