Love In 2014
Entry by: wordhound
14th February 2014
Love In 2014
Growing up a girl in Iowa, I couldn't see beyond first kisses. Couldn't tell what it was that was supposed to be so amazing after those initial fireworks. My folks seemed well partnered, and there was certainly evidence of some affection between them, but LOVE, L-O-V-E, that big cherry heart from all the Lisa Frank stickers I pasted over everything, that was a puzzle.
Love In 1985
I'd had crushes before Joe Cooper. But I got science-partnered with Joe just about the time all those love songs, all those romantic comedies, started to feel different. Just about the time *I* started to feel different. Looking back, I think I was just looking to cast a role in my life: romantic lead. And he simply gave the best audition.
Previously, when I'd gone crushing on somebody, I'd merely watched with some awe as the object of my affection went about his business in the world. Actually talking to a boy I liked? I think extraterrestrial communication was more likely. But with Joe, we were science partners, we had to talk to each other. EVERY DAY. For 45 minutes. I saw him at other points in the day, but for one almost-hour of of every schoolday's 24, he was *mine.*
And, peacock that he was, he threw himself into the part of teen idol. He'd have me check his hair, inspect his nails, make sure I noticed when he wore his jersey (Game Day!). Of course, I was also happy to check his homework, write up our lab reports, lend him whatever paper, pencils, erasers he'd left in his locker.
When he took the time to teach me how to lodge a pencil behind my ear, I thought I would sublime away from the sheer joy of it. He touched my hair! He touched my ear! I could smell the nachos on his breath!
The pencil thing's still one of my favorite tricks.
Love In 1989
Barry C. Ward II. Sounds like the trust-fund baby he never was. Sounds like a guy who's going to throw himself off the top of a parking garage when his marriage sours, his law practice tanks, and he's separated from all the SCUBA culture that kept him upright for that first decade out of college.
That was Barry. No middle ground. Capable of kisses so hot and sweet I'd have shucked him clean of his clothes in our first weeks together if there hadn't been a whole lotta church in my head telling me hell would be even hotter.
He had a key to the house, used to drive over before school in his rusted-out Chevy Malibu and sneak upstairs to wake me up, sometimes right where he'd left me the night before. Alone, we couldn't get enough of each other.
But add other folks to the picture and it got complicated. He was jealous, cut me off from enough of the rest of my life that I got squirmy. Needed a little room to breathe. Needed to keep up my grades, pick a college, write some things, work a couple lousy jobs, hang with a couple good friends.
So I left and true to form, he never forgave me. He understood. He knew the kind of storm he was, but right down to his dying day, he thought I was wrong to go.
Love In 1993
Crazy-frat-party leads to white-knight-savior leads to let's-not-wait-let's-get-married-now. And three really quiet years with Kelly Boswell. Deathly quiet. After Barry, I wanted his opposite. Somebody less fixated on me, somebody more even keel. I got somebody who married me because he was casting a role: little wife. And I'd given the least objectionable audition.
No Love: 1996-1999
Love In (1999-) 2014
After a fling with a colleague, I felt a little steadier about dating post-divorce. And, so, when I met a cocky would-be pilot at a hot-air-balloon race some friends had insisted I crew for, I was ready for David Drum.
But I wanted to move more slowly than I *wanted* to move, so the first time he asked me out, I had my excuse all ready, "Oh, sorry, Saturday night I have to wash my dog." Honest to God, it sounded good and reasonable in my head. And I thought he was going to cry. So I babbled out my schedule for the rest of the week. And we were off to bed and beyond.
15 years down the line, there's a child, a house full of animals and already quite a range of shared experience. I keep thinking each decade will get simpler, that what was was beyond those first kisses I imagined in junior high could only be less exciting.
But it's never been that way with us, though exciting isn't always awesome. We've each had serious health challenges. Money has always been an issue. Parenting and handling extended family relationships have pushed us to the brink of pushing away from each other.
Yet there have been, even in the worst of things, moments of passionate connection. Some born of laughter, some tears, but all of them part of the sum total of Love in 2014. Happy Valentine's Day.
Growing up a girl in Iowa, I couldn't see beyond first kisses. Couldn't tell what it was that was supposed to be so amazing after those initial fireworks. My folks seemed well partnered, and there was certainly evidence of some affection between them, but LOVE, L-O-V-E, that big cherry heart from all the Lisa Frank stickers I pasted over everything, that was a puzzle.
Love In 1985
I'd had crushes before Joe Cooper. But I got science-partnered with Joe just about the time all those love songs, all those romantic comedies, started to feel different. Just about the time *I* started to feel different. Looking back, I think I was just looking to cast a role in my life: romantic lead. And he simply gave the best audition.
Previously, when I'd gone crushing on somebody, I'd merely watched with some awe as the object of my affection went about his business in the world. Actually talking to a boy I liked? I think extraterrestrial communication was more likely. But with Joe, we were science partners, we had to talk to each other. EVERY DAY. For 45 minutes. I saw him at other points in the day, but for one almost-hour of of every schoolday's 24, he was *mine.*
And, peacock that he was, he threw himself into the part of teen idol. He'd have me check his hair, inspect his nails, make sure I noticed when he wore his jersey (Game Day!). Of course, I was also happy to check his homework, write up our lab reports, lend him whatever paper, pencils, erasers he'd left in his locker.
When he took the time to teach me how to lodge a pencil behind my ear, I thought I would sublime away from the sheer joy of it. He touched my hair! He touched my ear! I could smell the nachos on his breath!
The pencil thing's still one of my favorite tricks.
Love In 1989
Barry C. Ward II. Sounds like the trust-fund baby he never was. Sounds like a guy who's going to throw himself off the top of a parking garage when his marriage sours, his law practice tanks, and he's separated from all the SCUBA culture that kept him upright for that first decade out of college.
That was Barry. No middle ground. Capable of kisses so hot and sweet I'd have shucked him clean of his clothes in our first weeks together if there hadn't been a whole lotta church in my head telling me hell would be even hotter.
He had a key to the house, used to drive over before school in his rusted-out Chevy Malibu and sneak upstairs to wake me up, sometimes right where he'd left me the night before. Alone, we couldn't get enough of each other.
But add other folks to the picture and it got complicated. He was jealous, cut me off from enough of the rest of my life that I got squirmy. Needed a little room to breathe. Needed to keep up my grades, pick a college, write some things, work a couple lousy jobs, hang with a couple good friends.
So I left and true to form, he never forgave me. He understood. He knew the kind of storm he was, but right down to his dying day, he thought I was wrong to go.
Love In 1993
Crazy-frat-party leads to white-knight-savior leads to let's-not-wait-let's-get-married-now. And three really quiet years with Kelly Boswell. Deathly quiet. After Barry, I wanted his opposite. Somebody less fixated on me, somebody more even keel. I got somebody who married me because he was casting a role: little wife. And I'd given the least objectionable audition.
No Love: 1996-1999
Love In (1999-) 2014
After a fling with a colleague, I felt a little steadier about dating post-divorce. And, so, when I met a cocky would-be pilot at a hot-air-balloon race some friends had insisted I crew for, I was ready for David Drum.
But I wanted to move more slowly than I *wanted* to move, so the first time he asked me out, I had my excuse all ready, "Oh, sorry, Saturday night I have to wash my dog." Honest to God, it sounded good and reasonable in my head. And I thought he was going to cry. So I babbled out my schedule for the rest of the week. And we were off to bed and beyond.
15 years down the line, there's a child, a house full of animals and already quite a range of shared experience. I keep thinking each decade will get simpler, that what was was beyond those first kisses I imagined in junior high could only be less exciting.
But it's never been that way with us, though exciting isn't always awesome. We've each had serious health challenges. Money has always been an issue. Parenting and handling extended family relationships have pushed us to the brink of pushing away from each other.
Yet there have been, even in the worst of things, moments of passionate connection. Some born of laughter, some tears, but all of them part of the sum total of Love in 2014. Happy Valentine's Day.
Follow us on Twitter
Follow us on Instagram