Love is Love

I was sixty. He was thirty-two. I liked his kindness and swagger, but at first I didn’t even recognize him from day to day. It took me months to figure out that he was interested in a non-platonic relationship. But then…

He was doing something in the bow of his boat, leaning over away from me, and I gasped. My body wanted his body. O-kay. Not a problem. Admiration from a distance is fine. But then…

I noticed him standing close to me. Often. I noticed I didn’t mind. I usually mind. I usually like a lot of space between me and other humans. He blew me kisses. I started to look at him differently. But then…

Contempt said, Are you out of your mind? There’s no way! Look in the mirror! Doubt chimed in, Maybe he’s a gigolo. He thinks you’re rich, or just wants sex. But then…

“I feel like I know you,” he said over dinner. But he doesn’t. He has an idea of me, just like I have an idea of him. He is funny and cute, but then…

He ignored messages, and declined invitations with feeble excuses. I got angry. Doubt whispered, He’s probably married. He doesn’t love you. I sailed away without saying goodbye. The pain was extraordinary. Fortunately, Habibi’s boom hit me in the head and tears and truth flowed out. I am tired of loving unavailable and disrespectful people. It is a habit I want to replace. But then…

It is hard to look past appearances. I catch myself judging all the time, other people, but especially myself. And sometimes I’m right, and sometimes I’m wrong. But then…

Gender and age (and so many other things) are irrelevant to me. In my early thirties, I lived with a man ten years younger. Five years later, I was with a woman twenty years my senior. There is a film that speaks to this, The Beauty Inside. When the protagonist turns eighteen, he starts waking up in a different body every morning: different genders and ages and body types and skin colors and nationalities, and so on. The only constants are his/her furniture business, mother, and a friend. To complicate things even further, s/he falls in love. But then…

Love is love. Be brave. Practice. Start with yourself.