Risk being embarrassed. Risk being hurt. Risk looking silly. It’s all okay – feeling silly, getting hurt. Especially when the alternative is not to get kissed.

It feels so freeing: letting go. Having no expectations. Not trying to make something happen, not trying to predict the future. Just trying to live wholly in today. Choosing to be vulnerable is also choosing to be free. Sometimes I forget.

A poem:

What’s the worst that could happen?
He says no. She says yes.
They say ha-ha-ha.
Who cares, really?

What’s the worst that could happen?
You fall. He doesn’t.
(It’s never about you anyway).
And, really, who cares?

What’s the best that could happen?
That sunset is less beautiful than the moment.
Your life changes.
For a minute. For an hour. Forever.

What’s the best that could happen?
You start to believe. Again.
A prayer is actually answered.
You care. Really.

Today it’s the best. Maybe tomorrow the worst.
But today is still the best.
So, on the subject of tomorrow…
Who cares, really?

After all, tomorrow takes care of itself.
But today is all yours.

Still. I stopped the car and stared. Thin, tall, dark haired. His facial was different…a goatee.

I realized if I continued to sit in my car in the middle of the road staring, I’d likely be noticed and possibly feel stupid, so I drove slowly by, trying to see his face more clearly. My reaction, I thought, was strangely like an antelope from one of the nature documentaries I often watch. It hears something or sees something and it stops in its tracks. Frozen in an effort to not be seen, or in an effort to figure out from whence comes the danger. Then it bolts.

I got out of my car and moved to the restaurant patio–across the parking lot from where he stood in front of my gym. And I was curious, because he’d been on my mind lately, and I wanted to talk to him. So I started toward the gym, phone out and against my ear, so that I wouldn’t look like a stalker–rather, a distracted, pacing lady on a phone. Nothing to see here, folks, I’m not stalking a man who looks eerily like my ex-boyfriend…just having a nice phone conversation, walking around…nothing to see here.

I walked right past him. But it wasn’t him anyway.

It’s weird when you see someone for the first time after they broke your heart. Someone you didn’t expect to see again. Even when it turns out not to be that someone. It pushes you a little off balance. But I suppose it is good preparation. Because someday I may really run into one of the men whose memories I’ve tried to sweep aside. If only all of them could move away like the Jewish Glassblower Boyfriend or My First Love. The rest of you can please take a cue. Thanks.

Speaking of my bathroom…I did something nice for myself this week. I tossed my old, threadbare towels in the yard sale pile and bought myself a whole new bathroom set. Rich, red towels, wash clothes, hand towels; a delicate white and red towel to act as a rug; and a lush red and black shower curtain. The whole setup makes the bathroom feel luxurious. More like a boudoir, a place to escape. I doubt if you’ll be able to get me to leave that bathroom ever again. Just sayin’.

Today, we pull ourselves the heck together.

Today, we tell Romeo & Juliet, Guinevere & Lancelot, Paris & Helena, Heathcliff & Catherine, Scarlett & Rhett, Meg Ryan & (Insert Dashing Male Co-star), Carrie and Mr. Big, Edward & Bella, and everyone associated with The Bachelor(ette) to go ahead and shove it.

Today, we JUST SAY NO to dysfunctional love.

Join me, friends and comrades! On this glorious day, we free ourselves of the bonds of media-perpetuated nonsense that tells us our relationships are meaningless until someone is indulging in ill-mannered shenanigans! We say NO, stupid American love mythology, WE WILL NOT dispense with all good judgment, ethical boundaries, or shreds of dignity in service of the cultural imperative that Love Conquers All.

Love is consuming and intoxicating, yes. Love is something extraordinary that transforms the mundane. Love can make us feel CRAZY. We know.

BUT.

But.

Love is not submitting to every urge to hop on the Crazy Train.

Love is not going back again and again to the person who treats you like crap and cannot commit to you whilst telling yourself that epic love is ultimately going to change said person (see: addiction; self-delusion).

Love is not throwing yourself off a cliff or in front of a bus in despair because you cannot have the person you want (see: clinical depression).

Love is definitely NOT following someone around, watching them in their sleep, and trying to make all their decisions for them “for their own good” (see: stalking; abusive relationship; Twilight).

Neither is love two weeks of infatuation.

Neither is love cheating on your significant other because of your overwhelming googly feelings for New Shiny Person or Old Flame Person who will never break your heart or have any deal-breaking faults (right?).

Neither is love constant bickering, constant work, or constant abandonment of good sense and common decency.

Today we reaffirm our commitment to grown-up behavior, to decisions made intentionally and treated thoughtfully rather than as an itch we have to scratch.

We will not stand on doorsteps in the pouring rain disturbing the neighbors with mournful wails of regret or accusations of wrongdoing.

We will not drunk text our ex at 3am because we just thought of a brilliant, pithy way to make the scathing point in 160 characters or less that we’ve been wanting to make for weeks.

We will certainly not blurt out all of the things we are thinking and feeling that very moment just because they are so REAL and TRUE and subsequently blame “love” for the resulting train wreck.

And should we falter, as we are all liable to do sometimes, we will not expect to be rewarded for our haphazard flailing with happily ever after.

Not today, friends. Today, we join Sassy Gay Friend, and Corinthians 13:4-7 in declaring ourselves free free of dysfunction, free of self-serving tripe masquerading as affection, free of manipulation, drama, and psychobabble. We demand the kind of love that makes us better, that seeks and honors wholeness in others, that sometimes requires hard choices. We demand love without deception or temper tantrums, love that inspires us to take great care rather than to smash things up. Love that endures because it is greater than self.

And if we simply cannot get over ourselves long enough to manifest our way to compassionate, decent, transcendent love? Well. There’s always this in a pinch.

We do not know how to love.

We sing about it. Write about it. Shout it from the rooftops. Say it quickly. Say it often. Say it with fear and trembling. Or say it with excitement.

Without any idea of what it means.

That it’s not a feeling. Not magic. Not an UNCONTROLLABLE FORCE that sweeps us away without our consent.

“You can’t help who you love,” we say.

Bullshit.

It’s a thousand choices. To put someone else first. To make another’s life better. To sacrifice. To build up. To not tear down. To keep quiet. To speak up.

You can help who you love. And how well you love.

It’s patient. It’s kind. It looks simple when done well, but it is not simple. Not effortless. We’re broken and it doesn’t come naturally to us. Even babies want their way.

What if we loved one another? What if we listened, watched, took care of each other?

It would change everything.

Our failures would dim. Our successes would build. And even in failure, would we be content to know someone loved us anyway? Chose to. No matter what. Not because we won something, did something, were something. But because we are us. Children of God. Beautiful with even our flaws.

Depression? Hate? Wouldn’t they just fade away?

While we felt loved, listened to. But not self-absorbed.

Absorbed in loving back.

Passing it along.

Because love has to go both ways. It’s a web, a net to get caught in. I love you. You love me. We love them. They love us. We have to learn to love to save ourselves. Not be saved without any effort.

This is my manifesto.

To love.

Not perfectly, perhaps. But the best I can. Growing, I hope, day by day. Taking two steps forward for every stumble.

Finding balance.

Between loving you.

The you I know and the you I don’t.

And loving me. Even though I know my flaws better than anyone.

Not expecting perfection from either of us. But wanting it. Pursuing it. Moving toward it.

Loving.

And thus changing everything.

Since quitting my full-time job and becoming a Fabulously Self-Employed Person, I’ve spent a lot more time here. Having a leisurely cup of tea in the morning (imagine what you could do with your commute time). Trying various spins on the old staple: grilled cheese (think goat cheese, prosciutto, tomatoes, white onions — all with soft Italian bread toasted with white truffle oil). Decorating my simple table with a daring red tablecloth and vase of pink flowers. Preparing for a delicate lunch tomorrow with my favorite aunt.

And now, working, writing, watching Luna sleep on a blanket next to my chair. Drinking Chai with milk and sugar. Listening to my house make old-house noises. And feeling peaceful. Happy. Quiet.

Take a second. Think. Answer.

Why do people have value?

It was a question posed by my therapist a month or so ago. And my immediate answer was that they just do. They have value by default. It’s not earned (though it can be possibly diminished).

It reminded me of a conversation I had in college with my first love. He could not understand why I loved him. He was hard on himself and felt that he needed to earn love. He knew he hadn’t earned mine. And so he couldn’t understand it.

“Geege, why do you love me?”

“Because you’re you. And I do.”

What he didn’t understand is what I believe–deep down soul believe–that love is. Love is a thousand choices we make every day. It’s not something that just magically happens to you (stupid American love mythology). It’s not something you “fall” into or out of. It’s when you take someone on a helicopter ride for their birthday even though you’re sick as a dog and feel as though your head might explode. It’s when you forgive the small things. And then the big things. It’s when you forego your own comfort because someone else desperately needs to be comfortable.

It’s patient. And kind. And never self-righteous.

Love keeps its promises. Even the unspoken ones.

It wants the best–and it expects the best–from its object. But not the nagging expectation, instead the calm knowledge that the best is possible. Ever-possible. And every step toward it, however difficult, is a worthwhile step.

Why do people have value? Why do you love me?

Later, as I was driving home from therapy, an underlying reason for my answer struck me. People have value–they just do, I had said. And why do I believe that? Because I believe that people were created in the image of God.

Don’t get all crazy and literal on me here. I don’t mean that I’m thinking God has hands or eyes like we do. I mean that we’re souls. And we’re meant for goodness. And we can think for ourselves. And choose. And create. And appreciate beauty. And love.

What other creatures love like we do?

It’s a beautiful ability. Also capable of going horribly wrong. And also very misunderstood.

People have value because they are created in God’s image. A really beautiful concept.

And that’s another thing I believe. Deep down believe: this is why we’re here. To love.

Created in the image of God. To love.

It seems like the whole idea of “heaven” centers around this. A place where you aren’t hurt because everyone loves perfectly. So why are so many people waiting for some sort of Apocalypse when we could get started now? Practicing love. Probably never perfect. But always practicing, pushing, loving.

Making a thousand choices to take care of those around us. To love.

“But now faith, hope, love, abide these three; but the greatest of these is love.” – 1 Corinthians 13:13

Not faith. Not hope. Love.

Why do people have value?