The Men I've Loved

Love is a strange, many faceted thing. Love is beauty. Love is truth. Love is wonder. Love is.

I hate reducing Love to mere words because the English language is sadly lacking when it comes to describing the indescribable (of which category I happen to believe Love falls into).

Love, for me, seems to have changed over time. When I was a child, I understood Love as from a purely emotional standpoint. I saw Love as solely a choice in my adolescent years. I now (from the ripe old age of 24) see Love as not only both but so much more than either of these vague human terms can convey. Love is both emotion and choice. Love is all-encompassing. Love does not discriminate. Love accounts for the unaccountable things that we find ourselves doing on occasion or being recipients of. Love is. Love is Love is Love is Love is Love.

Understand the mystery that is love any better yet? Cool. Me neither.

Back to the slightly scandalous theme of this post, men. Specifically, the men who have managed to capture moments of my attention and pieces of my heart, no matter how long or brief. This one’s for y’all so pay attention!

I don’t consider myself to be a particularly easy or hard target. I don’t believe in playing games (specifically, playing hard to get...I see no point in this) and I don’t believe Love is something that should be toyed with. I do believe Love can be taken both too seriously and not seriously enough. I don’t believe in denying that Love exists and/or existed, not to myself or anyone else. I believe in being honest about Love. Hence this whole post.

Gentlemen: if I have at any ever been even slightly attracted to you, that is a huge point in your favor. Why?

Everyone has their own way of dealing with pain and rejection. Every girl has experienced the guy she likes falling for another girl and having to watch it happen and to be happy for him when it does. Or sometimes the guy likes her back and things are great for a little while, but it doesn't last forever. Or sometimes the guy makes everyone (including the girl) think he likes her but never follows through on asking her out. These are all sad circumstances to find ourselves in. These are all examples of frustrated Love.

Everyone has their own way of dealing with it when it happens. I’ve done the Love thing right and I’ve done the Love thing wrong, but now I do believe myself to be at some sort of happy middle ground. I “deal” in much healthier ways now and pretty much all of them benefit you (the men I’ve Loved).

If I have ever had a crush on you and made things terribly awkward by telling you (I am honest to a fault and I will not apologize for this), take comfort in knowing that you now have a prayer warrior praying for you, your physical and spiritual wellbeing, and the success of any future relationship you might have. If I have ever dated you, I pray with the same intentions for you. I pray the Rosary, the Divine Mercy Chaplet, offer my communion for you at Mass, say a Hail Mary or simply ask the Holy Spirit to be with you when you cross my mind.

You are a part of my life that I think deserves acknowledgement. You aren’t just a paycheck or a body - you are a human being of intrinsic value and worth. And, however briefly, you have been loved by a woman. Take it for what it is - a compliment to you! - and take heart; somewhere out there, the perfect person is (hopefully) preparing themselves for you. Heaven knows, I pray for that too!

Finally, not exactly on topic but not exactly off...if you have ever Loved me. Gentlemen. I must apologize because I am not sure I will ever be comfortable with receiving positive attention. That probably makes me exceptionally weird and awkward if you’ve ever tried to tell me...believe me, I’m sorry. That being said, if you ever work up the nerve to tell me please know 3 things.

1) Whether I Love you back (having a crush is a type of Love y’all) or not, I am honored you asked me out/told me. Seriously. And I will probably thank you for it. It’s no small thing, getting up the nerve to ask someone out. I understand that and I appreciate you thought I was worth doing it for!

2) I won’t ever downplay it or talk about it in a negative light with my friends/peers. I won’t deny it happened, no matter if it turns out to be the absolute worst date ever in the world. It’s not nothing. On a scale of 0 -10, 10 being the most important, getting asked out/having a guy tell me he likes me makes at least a 5 in my book. And since I’m not in the habit of lying, you can just take this at face value - but seriously, any friend I have ever talked to about guys can attest to this fact.

3) It’s gonna be a little pick me up, probably for years to come. In case you couldn't tell from this ENTIRE post, this isn’t the sort of thing a girl forgets.

So. To the men I’ve Loved, however briefly. This is my thank you, my encouragement and my acknowledgement of how you’ve touched my life. You remain in my prayers. Pax vobis. 

To My Fellow Leaves

To My Fellow Leaves, the Common People of this World:

Greetings. The world has an awful lot to say about us these days. Once a year, it seems, we can be sure of getting our due. Social media is full of breathtaking pictures of us, accompanied by a quote of some sort. These quotes, of course, have varying degrees of inanity that are meant to be profound and too often, fall short.

Nevertheless, now is our time to shine. We, the commoners. The ones who are never missed except when there is no shade. The ones who clean the very air around us and help make the world a better place by plodding along day after day, doing the very same things over and over again with no immediate result. We are the good people. The overlooked. The caregivers. The people who are not fully appreciated until we start to die, fall to the earth and begin to be trodden underfoot. We, the servants. We are the leaves.

I have, my dear compatriots, discovered a quote I think as describes us best. It reads as follows.

~

The tragedy of the world is that so many are unloved. Roses always look beautiful and smell sweet, and hence they are a prize to be possessed. Sweetbriar, however, has fragrant leaves, and they are never so fragrant as when it rains. The common people of the world are like these leaves; they have something fragrant about them, particularly when the days are dark and clouded and rain falls in their lives. Anyone can love a rose; but it takes a great heart to love a leaf.

Archbishop Fulton J. Sheen

~

It takes a great heart to love a leaf.

It takes a great heart to love a leaf.

What is loveable about monotony? Are we loveable when we feel that in the great play of life, we were cast in the part of the drudge? Who else is discouraged every time you vote seeing the immoral candidates win? Who else gets tired of turning the other cheek but at the end of the day, turns it anyway and will turn it again tomorrow? Who volunteers at church? Who doesn't need recognition but SOME appreciation would be nice once in a while? Us. The leaves.

The road to notoriety is paved with anonymity. And yet, it's not really notoriety we want, is it? We just want our ordinary, every day sort of goodness to take root in this aching world that so badly needs our love and yet avoids admitting it at all cost. We want to feel like we are making a difference.

The world is a scary place right now, but like Gandalf, I happen to beleive it is the ordinary folk who keep great evil at bay through small acts of kindness and love. Gandalf, a great wizard (and to go along with the analogical theme of this blog post, a rose), looked to Bilbo (a nobody, a leaf) for courage when he foresaw the doom of the world. The rain had started falling fast and heavy and suddenly the little everyday actions of a hobbit were what could save the world.

My fellow Leaves, Commoners, Peasants, Ordinary Folk...it takes a great heart to love us. And on days when you feel forgotten, remember that the greatest heart of all (God) sees your worth and values you right along with the roses.

The rain is coming, friends. It is to you the world will turn when things go wrong. Be ready to astound the world with the fragrance of your ordinary little lives.