**I want to preface this piece by saying I have a distinct tendancy to be dramatic. I may have started my day a little teary eyed. But driving with loud music, cold beer and rugby have significantly lifted my spirits. Nothing really gets me down for long. Not even love, despite the amount of time I spend talking about it, and thinking about it. My love isn’t the only thing about me compared to the sun; my disposition is generally sunny. 🙂

First of all you should know, I don’t remember much of what happened or what I said. But the one truth is that I am in love with you. I’ve been falling steadily over the past few months.

Honestly, it is only the guilty feeling in my heart that makes me think I kissed you, but I don’t remember kissing you. I remember being pushed away. I remember saying “I should leave.” I remember not wanting to leave. I remember sitting next to you, and listening to you tell me you want me too. I remember not wanting to leave, needing to stay, ripping my heart out of my chest leaving it bloody and cold at your feet and trying to walk away. (Thank you for making me walk away.)

The fact that you made me leave is actually one of the reasons I’m in love with you. Not because you rejected me, but because you’re a good guy. You’re the first good guy in a series of encounters that has made infidelity more realistic than Love. In the months we’ve known and spent time getting to know each other, you never said one single word out of line. You never reciprocated my flirtations, and never ever led me to believe that you liked me back. But you talked to me like a human being, and never took advantage of how I felt about you (as I’m sure my infatuation was as clear as day.) You made it easy to be your friend; and you made me want to be your friend.

The problem is that it made me fall even harder. My weeks would be punctuated by my chats with you, starting each workday with a smile and a lot of time a laugh.  When I’m feeling down a quick chat with you and my day would be sunny. When I needed a little ego boost I could count on you to tell me I’m cool. Every time I would find out something about you that corresponded directly to me (my lucky number is tattooed on your arm), it would be like a shard of glass in my heart; the bloody mess at your feet is a result of months of careful extraction Liefde, not the result of a drunken night.

When I stood in front of you that night, begging to be loved, you should know I’ve never done that before. I broke all the rules I had for you, and I would do it again. I would leave everything I know, everything I have to be with you. I know it’s crazy but that’s how I feel. I’ve only been in love once before, and this is the only way I know how to love. I’m an all-in kind of person. I don’t know how to do this any other way.

You’ve been with her for almost half your life. I read “Ode to a pretty lady” and understand how you love, how long you’ve loved. I never meant to hurt you. I don’t know if I did. The way I’ve seen you love her, is probably one of the most beautiful things about you. I hope how I feel about you, doesn’t diminish how you feel about her. I’ve been a part of true infidelity before and have come through unscathed because it didn’t matter. It matters to me that you are unscathed. There is no hope for me this time.

I find myself wondering if you gave me a second thought; as you fly home whether you re-lived the broken memories from that night. Did you brush them aside as a gesuip evening, and kakfaced declarations? Somehow I know my weakest most vulnerable moments are safe with you. You wouldn’t ridicule me, or tell me as a funny story to your mates over a beer. Have you noticed there is something about the way someone says your name, that you feel you will always be safe in their mouth? That your name will never be spoken in anger or hate; that the words following your name will never be harsh or mean.  If my name was a magic word that opened the doors to an endless treasure (or endless love) then I would whisper it to your ear knowing it will be safe with you.

Do I even know you enough to be in love? Is it enough to spend a little time together, a lot of time apart, writing thoughts and ideas into a screen and reading someone’s reaction to you to fall in love? I don’t know. All I know is it’s been so long since I’ve been in love. I forgot what it feels like. I’d forgotten that falling feeling, when your stomach is in your throat, and you have to keep taking deep breaths to steady your lovesick heart. ::deep breath:: All I know is how I feel.

You are my Dark knight, Liefde. You are strong, and have abundance of moral courage. You command my respect. I listen to you, and learn from you. Perhaps I’ve put you on a pedestal, but its not because I don’t see that you’re just a man. I don’t live in a dream world. It’s just that I accept you, exactly as you are, flaws and scars and idiosyncrasies. I love the way your brown eyes glint with gold of mischief, or annoyance. I love the way you say my name and it reverberates in my chest. I love the way you pulled up your jeans and threw off your shirt to play in the beach. I love the way you hug- the way you gather me into your embrace.  I love the electricity when we touch in passing, and the way I feel like a taut rubber band when our eyes meet. I love that you have an opinion, that you’re political and well informed. I love that you’re incredibly cool and incredibly nerdy. I love the way your eyes light up when you talk about Beer and dogs and when you talk about her too.

Well, this love is mine, this pain is mine and this story of my Liefde is mine alone. You have no say in how I feel, and you certainly have no right to an opinion about my love for you.  I mean, it doesn’t really take two to be in love does it? It takes one over enthusiastic, highly impulsive heart to just go and  attach itself to an unsuspecting soul. You didn’t really do anything (the person who is loved rarely does something extraordinary.) Isn’t that also how love works? Person A was just getting along in his life, and Person B liked the way he stands, or the way he smells or the way he picks his nose and BOOM! Love happens.

It is no business of yours how much I love you, how long and how deeply. You can’t tell me to stop. You can’t send my love back to me. You just have to sit quietly and be the subject of my love. I hope you know what an honour it is to be my Liefde. I’ve been told my love has the force of the universe behind it. It’s strong and unwavering. It’s unconditional. It’s huge, in fact it’s intimidating. A mere man will cower in the presence of my love. He will run away because he lacks moral courage (and he has, more times than I can count.) It’s like looking into the sun. (I picture you in your ubiquitous black t-shirt, squinting into the sun, flipping the bird and daring it to burn you. haha)

I’m sorry you became the victim of my heart. I know it wasn’t your intention, it honestly wasn’t mine either. I wish I could tell you why now, why you, what’s the purpose of this. It’s such a hopeless situation. I know in time I will understand the lesson to be learned. I know in time I will get over this, and get over you. You should know I never stop loving the people I love. I just find more people to love. So you are marked for life Liefde. As sure as a tattoo in your sleeve, a good luck charm you didn’t know was there, I’ve left my mark.

I hope it didn’t hurt too much.