The kids are climbing all over me. Tyson is launching Legos across the table to see how far they go. Maya is snuggling at my feet. The dog is snoring and passing gas. Yet amid all this, I am engrossed in Love.
All of me is throbbing as a result of this fairly naughty book. My heart beats a bit more rapidly than what would be considered respectable.
I really should cease reading it. I certainly won't watch the major motion picture! I have no desire to witness first hand the major motion of various vital body parts of unknown actors in said picture. No sir! Not me.
Reading the book is somewhat graphic. I admit. The story is so compelling I must see it through!
But don't worry, I use the little black censor bars in my imagination so as to lend a degree of modesty to the lovers. I have no intention on dwelling on the male apparatus of a stranger, even a fictional one. Female parts, strange or no, have no effect on me so they remain uncensored in my brain.
I am being slightly naughty in continuing to read but...
Oh... but the romance.... ahhhhh the romance has me spinning. My heart is full with pain and love.
She falls in love. He loves her true. They love in secret. Yes, they do. For years they write notes of passion. They are to marry, a reckless union. Then She looks him in the eye one day and realizes... *gasp* She does not love him. It was all an illusion! So she marries another. The devastated lover is sick and pale with grief. He lives his life in the hope of having her one day again...
When my husband sees me engrossed in my book of friends he says, "Now, don't you go falling in love with one of them romantic guys in your book."
"You're silly," I say... "YOU are far more romantic than the goofballs in this book... but... if I had married someone else... instead of you...if I had dumped you and married someone else.... would you have waited for me? Would you love me forever? Would you have lived every moment waiting for a chance to have me back?"
"Of course I would, baby!" he says. "You are the only one for me. There is no one else."
"What if I died? How long til you found another wife? You hate to sleep alone..."
"You're starting to hurt my feelings with these questions. I would NEVER, EVER want another woman but you. No other woman could even compare to you."
"Yeah... I don't know... I can just see your mom waiting a good 4 months out of respect for the dead and then setting you up with a nice, smiley, plump, good cook, Mormon spinster.... The children would need a mother, you know. She'll probably be super cheerful all the time. A little ray of sunshine. THEN maybe you'll be happy!"
I feel sick. I feel sad. BETRAYED! Tears fill my eyes. He already has a plump Mormon housewife waiting for me to DIE! I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS CRAP! AFTER ALL I HAVE SACRIFICED! I HAVE DEVOTED MY LIFE TO THIS MAN AND HIS CHILDREN AND NOW LOOK!...
At this point my husband is terrified. Confused.
"I don't know what to do when you get like this," he says.
"YOU CAN START BY DUMPING THAT SMILEY MORMON WHORE YOU WANT TO MARRY SO BADLY!"
Now I'm crying. Sorta.
My man softens and soothes me with lots of words. Words including "baby" "I would never" "you're the only" "I love you" after several more "babies" I am feeling slightly better but still shaken.
Love is so very painful. Is it not? It is.
Love aches and hurts and causes me to throb in the best/worst possible way.
Love can destroy an individual.
Love is the only thing that truly matters in this dark and dreary wilderness.
Without Love in all it's forms I am lost. It is the breath in me.
I breath my Love on those closest and most of them are filled to capacity. Filling others with love is a passion I enjoy. It is a service I render.
Does that kind of love exist in reality? Like in the book? Would a man possibly remain in love with a woman he cannot have for the length of his life in the hopes that in old age he would have her again?
Do people really not get remarried after a spouse dies at a young age?
Do such romantics exist in the world?
I hope so.
