The Laughing Wolf

To Love, Never To Lose

In this post, Michele at Letters from New York City asks us to share first loves. This ties into this post from Christina at Feisty Repartee asking how men show love. Both started some thoughts that I have not had the time to sit down and write about as they deserve to be treated, until now. For one thought that has crossed my mind in thinking on this is that I am not sure I have ever truly lost anything for love.

My first crush was a cute young blonde (at least that is how I remember her) girl in first grade, a fairly innocent thing. At least from our viewpoint, for I still have fond memories of her, but will say that her mother was a piece of work. Alas, it did not last long, but it set the stage for more later and there were some other crushes in grade school, but only one stands out to my mind. I wrote about it as my Blog Cuba entry here. Muchas gracias mi amigo for asking me to take part in that. It brought back many good memories, though I still wonder where she is today.

I think my first case of lust hit at an early age as well, courtesy of The Avengers. Mrs. Peel. Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrroooowwwwwwllllllllllllll! Still hot today too, and back then kick started me into puberty. In looking back with more adult eyes, still think they could have called the show "Emma In Bondage" and not been wrong at all. I wanted to be Steed both because of how suave a character he was, but also because I did not see him and Mrs. Peel letting all that wonderful sexual frission go to waste.

My first college crush was Miss B. I was clueless on many levels, and blew my chances there, but I was in heavy lust with her and kick myself for many missed opportunities because I was such a chowderhead. Was the first in a series of redheads too, thinking back on it.

The first real love of my life was a young woman I met in an English class. She was a graduate student, taking the course or auditing, I can't remember. I asked the professor about her, and he decided to encourage the interest, not to her happiness perhaps, but to mine. The hunt began, and then a relationship. Ups and downs, but a solid core of friendship was built in the process. The fact is, we realized that we did very much love each other, but that we were not right for each other. I helped her to find her true love, and to get them together. It was easy to do in many ways, because I did truly love her and wanted only the best for her, and for her happiness. It was a decision I have never regretted because I see quite often the happiness they have together.

I am not sure if I would consider the person I call my Ex as a crush or what. There was love there at one point, but I think a lot of what brought us together was desperation. She wanted citizenship and to be a spoiled thing. I wanted someone in my life, in some ways for all the wrong reasons. After the stunt she pulled the night of my Father's visitation, I woke up and let her go. I did it gently in many respects, to the point of giving her a special weekend in San Francisco complete with her first visit to a hair salon since, according to her, she was twelve. Come to think of it, her mother was apparently quite a piece of work too. Yet and all, I benefitted from the affair, whatever it truly was. I learned, I grew, I matured, and I did have some fun along the way. She reminded me of things about myself that I had forgotten, and reawakened some dreams.

As for how I show my love to the special women in my life? Sometimes it is in the little things: a note hidden to be found, a special treat of food, a small gift to be found at a time when they were no where near me. Sometimes it is in the holding, for I have held females through a rough night, held and nothing more. Sometimes it was in the touch: a hug for no good reason, or something more in the form of a massage. Sometimes it was in a bit more: a shower, a full-body massage until full relaxation, then a hot bath with bath salts. It was doing something to give them physical pleasure that they liked. It was always the eyes, for I never tired of looking at them, of telling them with my gaze that I found them sexy, wonderful, intelligent, fun, or whatever else was appropriate. It was in the simple fact that with those special people that I would walk hand-in-hand with them, with us never really thinking about it -- it just was. It just is.

The flowers and the showy things were nice, but it was and is the small things that truly count. It was and is the small things that let me know how serious I am, and how serious they are about the relationship.

The loss of the relationship can be and was devastating, and worse yet is losing someone more permanently. Yet, as much as I have been hurt temporarily by such, I have come to question the whole concept of "Losing at Love" as espoused in song and story. The older I have gotten, the more I have realized that hurt, and even harm, are nothing. For love or lust, but particularly love, has left me a far richer person than I was before. Each relationship has brought something new, something special, into my life. I have lived, I have loved, I have learned. Some lessons are bound to be painful in ways we will not enjoy. Yet, are those not the lessons that stick?

Each relationship has brought life and joy into my existence. Each love has brought so much more, and the nice thing is, the ones with love continue to give, even when that person is gone. That love remains with me, and brightens my day. It continues to fill me with those who remain in my life, and fill my life with the love of friendship.

No, I have never lost at love. I have only gained from it.

LW