"So have you thought about what we talked about yesterday? Have you managed to recognize the truths that I spoke to you about your relationship with her? It was doomed from the beginning. It had no future, there was no way that it could have worked, and you need to accept that, learn from that, dammit, and move on."
"Um, yes, I have thought about everything that you said yesterday, and I'm not very sure that I agree with any of it."
"Good grief! What exactly does it take to reach you, to make you understand? None of this is complicated. Why are you having such trouble understanding me? Are you just completely in denial?"
"Well, no, I don't think I am in denial. In fact, I'm not really sure what denial is. I do know that she broke it off with me, and I am sad about it, but I don't know about that whole 'denial' thing. I haven't denied anything: we were in love and she broke it off. I think she broke it off for the wrong reasons, for reasons that don't make enough sense, and I think we could have had a future together."
"So you don't think that your age difference matters? You don't think that being separated by over 1500 miles matters? What do you think matters, then? What really matters?"
"Well, first of all, I think what matters is if two people really love each other. If they think about each other all the time. If every random moment in every regular day has the other person making an appearance, then that is love. When you pine for that person, day-in and day-out. When you can't wait to hear their voice. When you are bursting with good news, and that person is the first person that you want to tell. When you are at the bottom of the pile of your life's debris and detritus, when you are sad beyond all measure, and they lift you up -- that's love. When you dream of days and nights and life and laughter all shared with that person forever after, that's love. When they can make you laugh hardest and cry longest -- that's love. When you want them with you at sunrise and at sunset and every time in between, that's love."
"This is almost too much sugar for me to consume at one sitting. Do you really hear yourself spouting these greeting-card platitudes? Do you really believe all of this crap, all of this dime-store wisdom about 'Love'? You sound like a Barry Manilow song."
"Actually, I've always liked Barry Manilow's songs. I think most people do, and they are just unwilling to admit it; like it would be a demonstration of how un-hip they are to enjoy some uplifting thoughts."
"Oh. My. God. You. Like. Barry. Manilow. I am almost without words. I don't know how to talk to someone who likes Barry Manilow. I don't know how to do it. There could not be a more rosy view of the world than someone who likes Barry Manilow. It's all make believe, dammit. It's not how real life works. It's all fantasy."
"I think it could be how real life works, if real people would act differently. If people put love, and hearts and souls first, I think it could be how real life works. I think it could eliminate a lot of loneliness, and a lot of broken hearts if more people listened to Barry Manilow."
"We have got to get Barry Manilow out of this conversation. I am starting to feel nauseous. Please, for the love of God, let's put Barry back into the golden oldie vault where he belongs. Okay?"
"Well, I don't want to make you nauseous. So we can stop talking about him if you want to. I would rather talk about her and me anyway."
"Good. Maybe we can make some progress. To start, we need for you to carefully consider your ideas about love. They are unrealistic. They are, if they ever were true, no longer operative in this world. They are confectionary dreams. They are unreality. That kind of love just does not exist."
"But I think that kind of love exists, because it existed for me. I loved her with my whole heart. I spent all my time talking to her, emailing her, playing games online with her, writing poems for her, helping her with problems, laughing with her, crying with her -- you name it, we did it together."
"But that is not enough. You two have never even met in person. How do you know how you would react to her if you met her in person? What if she is a lousy kisser? What if she is too short or too fat? What if she has bad breath? You just do not know her, and no amount of phone calls, or emails, or games or poems or anything else can help you to know her, or her to know you."
"If I met her in person, I would just take her in my arms and squeeze her, tell her I loved her, and give her the very best kiss that I could come up with for a very long time. And I don't care if she is not that good a kisser; maybe I can help her be a better one. And I don't think that she is too short; she is 5 feet 5, which is fine by me. And I don't think that she is too fat; she told me that she has some extra pounds -- so do I. She's never mentioned bad breath, but there's always mouthwash, I guess. See, what I fell in love with was not her kiss, or her height and weight, or her breath -- it was her; her heart, her soul, her goodness, her sense of humor, her compassion, her spirit -- gentle at times, fierce when necessary. I fell in love with her vulnerability and her unstoppable strength. I fell in love with her sense of right and wrong, her understanding of justice and injustice, her love of music, her love for her three daughters, her love for her little sister, her love for her parents, her love for the little children that she cares for every day -- I fell in love with all the things that anyone would fall in love with. And the things that I might not have fallen in love with are the same imperfections that we all have -- that you and I have, that everyone has -- and I accept those as proof positive that we are all human, that we are mortal, and that none of us is perfect in every way. She is just perfect enough in just enough ways that I fell in love with her."
"We have a long way to go here. That much is clear to me now. In fact, that may just be the only thing that is clear to me now. I need a break. I need to regroup and collect myself."
"I guess I could use a break for a while too. All this talking makes me thirsty. I'll see you later."
[to be continued]
January 17, 2009.
Copyright © 2009, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.