Friday, June 10, 2011

The Right Kind of Courage

I consider myself moderately courageous. I can approach a stranger, initiate a date, ask for kiss or toss a compliment; I can move to a foreign country where I don't know anyone or speak the language. I can fall in love. But, like most silly human beings, I can't, for the life of me, talk about my feelings with someone I care about.

Yes, I have brazenly asked Harry if he wants " to go make out." I've even casually tossed the "welp, lets go have sex" card on the table, which, granted, wasn't terribly easy. (Nor did either go over particularly well.) But when it comes to telling someone that you have feelings for them beyond friendship or physical attraction, something most everyone hopes to be told, why is it so impossible to find the right time, the right words, and the right kind of courage?

Last night, after giving an English lesson to a nice French guy that showed up with a squirrel in his pocket, (a soft, wonderful, baby squirrel named Scratchy) I went out with H and J for some drinks and squirrel talk. The night ended with the two of them "giving me a ride home" by all of us spending an hour giggling in the streets trying to pile onto one bike. It was a profoundly good time. We were so proud of ourselves and our team spirit when, finally, with me on the handle bars, Harry on the seat, and Jonas on the peddles, we managed to swerve around the Chapel St Michel laughing up a storm the whole way. That's some lovely novelty right there: a Hawaiian, a Frenchie, and a Brit rolling around an ancient French cathedral at 3am.

It's fun but it's starting to get a bit ouch inducing as well. And not just from the bruised butt after the handle bars. Each evening when I faire la bise with Jonas and give Harry a defeated handshake my heart gives a little whimper. Hiding affection seems so gosh darn criminal. Every inch of me wants to scream "YOU ARE LOVED! thank you for being you!" in the universal language of kissing, but instead, the laws of relationships force me to walk up my spiral stair case each night with an added ouch on every step.

I seemingly have no trouble with love and loving all sorts of people, all over the place. Why, when we have naturally so much love to give, is it so decidedly against the rules to be loved by more than one person?

"I wish I could tell you face to face instead of singing this stupid song, but yeah, I just think that we might get on..">link<


  1. In the 60s, we tried to make love to everyone, but discovered it was an exhausting job. So the solution I found was to make love to everybody through one person.


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