love


Thinking about her makes me weak. Wrapped up in her arms is exactly where I belong. When I think about her, sometimes I feel so much love that I could cry. How did I get to be the luckiest girl in the world? Anywhere could feel like home, as long as I had her arms around me. I feel like I just discovered one of life’s biggest secrets. I’m so lucky. The world around me is colored with her love.

Memories I love: Sharing alpaca steak in Peru, noticing how beautiful she looked standing at the train station, running to her house covered in sweat last summer, waking up at 2PM, leaving her a note and wandering around her neighborhood, coming home to her smiles every day, cuddling close in the Fremont, not ever finishing the romantic comedy we started, pulling her down on the floor with me, sitting in her lap while drinking wine, pulling her closer in to me at The Cafe in San Francisco, taking road trips with her down south, stopping at Starbucks, grabbing In N Out, waking up early to go to Peru, seeing her go to bed early in my bed, smiling seeing how peaceful she looked, being surprised by her taking me to see The Phantom of the Opera, dancing with her in the Castro, noticing how sexy (and adorable) she looked swaying next to me, not seeing anyone else in the club but her, kissing her all night, having tea with her at Samovar, getting a text from her even though she was right next to me, cuddling closer to her in the middle of the night, walking up Bernal hill together, kissing her, working from home together on Fridays, seeing her smile, lean over, and kiss me, going to Love Sushi with her, wine drenched sunset nights in Carmel, fuzzy romantic memories, noticing how breathtaking she looked at dinner at the Foreign Cinema…

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…and I still get butterflies when she wraps her arms around me and pulls me in closer early in the morning. Happiness is waking up with her still holding me close, and feeling her breathing gently on my neck as she sleeps. How did I get so lucky?

Sometimes, when we’re cuddled close in bed, and I can feel her arms around me, holding me tight, I imagine a ring around her finger. I feel butterflies rushing through my body like wildfire. When I consciously think to myself, “I’m lying in bed with my wife,” I feel so weak and so proud that I can hardly stand it.

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with nothing more to say than, God, I love this girl. Waking up with her every morning makes every day the happiest of my life.

Thinking about her makes me smile while I’m driving to work on a rainy Friday morning.

I realize that my blog is supposed to be about dating, love, sex and relationships – but even though that subject may be something I think about a great deal of the time, it (surprise) isn’t all that I think about. I think I’m going to take some liberties here (not that I never had these liberties) and write about whatever else is on my mind. I realized that the reason behind why I don’t update my blog religiously is the fact that I don’t always have something to say about love and relationships. Perhaps that’d make me a bad writer for a magazine, say, but this is just my blog, so I’m going to take advantage of the fact that I can do whatever I want.

It’s a foggy day out in San Francisco and Berkeley (I am in Berkeley at work, and can see the city from my window), and my crazy boss isn’t here. I could not be happier. That woman stresses me out. Just seeing her face brings my pulse up a couple hundred notches. She may think her presence here is good for productivity, but the fact remains that I get SO much more work done when she’s not around to raise my blood pressure. I am so glad she’s not here.

Anyway, on more of a romance note, I was recently introduced to this song by Jon Brion – Little Person. It’s got a melancholic feel, but at the same time, is strangely hopeful and beautiful. So for all of you out there searching for that other little person- this goes out to you.

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[Disclaimer: I am in no way advocating ex-sex. In fact I consider it highly detrimental, and a huge step backward.]

Ex-sex. It’s hard to properly enunciate if you say it fast. It’s also hard to predict what will happen after an encounter of that nature. You know what people say. Don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t do it. It’s nothing but trouble. For some reason, after a couple of glasses of wine, and some reminiscing about the past, it feels as though there is no other alternative. Particularly when your ex is sitting on your lap, with her legs wrapped around you, practically pleading with you for one (or several) last times.

This is what happened this past weekend, when I drove down to south to visit my friends, and told my ex that I would drop by on the way back up to the city. As it turns out, dropping by turned into more of a night over, especially since I was tired after a long day of being in the car. And sleeping with her arms around me just seemed so appealing, especially considering the alternative – a longer drive home, in the dark, only to fall asleep, exhausted, all by my lonesome. Shame, shame, shame…I know. I am only human.

The feeling of her lips on mine again was intoxicating – perhaps even better than it was when we were together. I knew it was because of the forbidden aspect, but that didn’t prevent it from being an irresistible experience. The more she kissed me, the more I resisted, but after her arms wrapped around me along with her legs, and after I caught the scent of her delicious perfume, resistance was futile. My morals and restraint were all shot to hell. Besides, I thought, I loved her, and part of me loved her still. The soft jazz playing in the background made it near-impossible to avoid the ominous, vilified phrase: Sex with the Ex.

“What will happen if we do this?” I asked, terrified of what it could all mean.

“Nothing…I promise I won’t want a relationship out of this.”

My fears were somewhat abated. I let my defenses fall. I let it happen. It was incredible. Why is sex with the ex always so exhilarating, so passion-filled and so amazing? I’m sure we all know the answer. It’s wrong. And you think it will never happen again. All the more incentive to make it unforgettable. I felt the warmth of her body against mine, I smelled the sweet scent of her pretty hair, and I lost myself in what felt like the passion that only comes from your first love. I was deluded, no doubt, but the rush was undeniable.

We spent the remainder of the night cuddling just the way we used to – her arms around me tight, holding me from behind. I felt so safe. I sighed and leaned into her warmth. I woke in the morning to kisses. I could get used to this, I thought. But I still knew that this was something that would never last. Why the body and emotions will sometimes never align with the mind is something I will never be able to understand fully. I spent the remainder of the drive up north listening to emotional love songs, thinking of her. My emotions ran amok, while my mind calmly told me that I should simmer down, since I knew we were incompatible.

“Sex with an ex can be depressing,” Samantha Jones, of Sex and the City muses, “if it’s good, you don’t have it anymore. If it’s bad, you just had sex with an ex.”

How true she was. And now, I am discovering the consequences of sex with the ex. My entire drive was spent glancing at cute texts filled with sweet nothings from the ex. Now she is a larger part of my life than she really should be. Now I feel more for her than I really should feel. Now my life is that much less open to the woman of my dreams, should she walk into my life.

Emotions are complex. Ideas about always following your heart are fueled by idealistic romantic comedies, books and poetry that wish that the world were perfect. In a perfect world, we could all follow our hearts and live happily ever after. In the real world, it seems that a combination of logic and emotion must mix to create the perfect elixir for finding lasting love.

“Why won’t you just follow your heart for ONCE?!” My ex once exclaimed.

“I do,” I answered. But look what happens when you follow JUST your heart and completely ignore your head.

Not all love works out in the end. Even if it were the most pure, real, and strongest of loves. As John Mayer’s song Split Screen Sadness goes, “All you need is love is a lie, cause we had a love but we still said goodbye, now we’re tired, battered fighters.”

Love may not always last forever, and it does not always end in wedded bliss. There are a myriad of reasons why a love affair can end. But what I think we can be thankful for, in the very end, is the fact that love happened.

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