Inspiration Boulevard

Of course it was neither the time nor the place to say it, but I totally understood where he was coming from.  Even with those whom I haven't been CRAY-ZY over from the moment I laid eyes on them, I still get that itch.  That itch being, I want them to love me "most."  Not an itch I'm proud of, but what are you gonna do---it's a glaring THERE.

Let me scoot back and give some context before I jump right in to the epiphany upcoming. 

When I told my long-distance sweetheart of eleven years we would always stay the best of friends, but there was a new man in my life who I had begun to care for deeply, his response surprised me, (though it shouldn't have...).  We hemmed and hawed for a minute or two, as is customary in Southern break-up ritual. 

Then he said flat-out, "But do you still love me most?"

It was mid-November; no more than 40 degrees outside.  Leaves were swirling all round the bottom of the sky.  We walked quickly. deliberately, but wandering all the while.  My face flushed red, was bright warm. 

He said, "You know how this past spring you told me even though you were dating him, you loved me most?  Is that still true?"

The fact of the matter was I really didn't.  This is a man who had strung me along since I was 18.  I did love him, but certainly not MOST.  What's to be done, but slump down beneath a blazing sugar maple, and say, "Yes.  Yes, I still love you most."

With that, we ironed out our goodbyes, and off he went into the sunset, back to his life in mid-Missouri, and I back my Confederate soldiers' hospital-turned-apartments.  Blustery November nights only add to the ghostful lonesomeness of the place.  For supper I made pumpkin soup.  Still couldn't shake the zombie-like feeling of having watched my childhood sweetheart leave, leave, leave.  So I tried to cheer myself up with dark chocolate and sangiovese.  

Works every time.

"Sure enough," I thought to myself.  "Who doesn't WANT to be loved most?  But once love is brought into the picture, all measuring factors are tossed to the zephyrs.  Love is both a verb (down with the dc talk!) and a sensation, kind of.  We apply it to all sorts of people and ideals, etc.  It just manifests itself in different ways.  There is no MOST; only love." 

This is such a liberating idea for me, someone who has always valued being especially valued.  You see?  And I'm hoping that if there's anyone who reads this who's like my ex or me, then you too will take comfort in the very real truth that love always and forever stays in random order.