Wednesday, September 18, 2019

SAB: An Irrespective


A Russian woman asked me when the last time I fell in love was.  I couldn't answer the question.  My definition of love has deepened recently, and it's almost embarrassing to admit that what I might have felt in previous relations as such a four-letter word.  Lust, sure... but that other one?  None of them come even close.  Lust is easy.  Love is difficult.  There have been few difficult women in my life.

That is really strange to think about.  Even stranger to realize.

I've had a few relationships over the years, but most of those didn't involve love.  Also strange to the think about.  Love was felt only for the muses in my life, and even two of those didn't quite make the grade.

Six muses.  Four "loves."

Jesus, that is weird.

Weirder still... only two of those were actual relationships.

My last muse faded in December 2010.  She might've bled into 2011, but I can't recall exactly.  Regardless, I posted the first entry on my creative blog, (M)useless Propaganda, on the 20th of January, 2011.  The blog was aptly named, so you do the math.

I've had relationships since.  None mused, all loveless.  Not a single writing inspired by a woman, unless you count "Gloriana," which I wrote for a girlfriend because she needed a monologue for acting class.  Never fell in love with that one, though.

I did try to fake a muse last year.  She was beautiful and interesting, and I was lonely as hell.   I wrote six pieces of creative writing with her in mind, possibly seven, but now when I read the results of that faux motivation, I'm almost disgusted.  The emotions behind the words seem empty, forced upon the page by desperation.  I suppose the writing wasn't bad, so I can pat myself on the back for that.  And the woman was pretty cool, if a tad bit fraudulent.  But we remain friendly.

How do I know she was a faked muse?  Because of that disgust.  With the previous real muses, I can almost remember where I was and what I was thinking.  With the one from 2018... I can't even remember exactly what writings she inspired.  Some are obvious, of course, due to certain descriptions, but some are not and remain questionable.

If that Russian woman asked me her question again, I'd very likely say the last time I fell in love was the 3rd of September.  A mere two weeks ago.  It was with this particular woman that my definition of love changed.  Deepened.  Strengthened.  There was lust involved, to be sure, and she's easily the most beautiful woman to have ever expressed interest in me, but I'm comfortable admitting that it was love.  As defined.

Alas, our paths don't seem destined to converge, and as I feared the heartbreak while falling deeper in love, and feeling the passion to write about her grow with every message (9621 exchanged since August 26th), I had to break away.  This relationship, no question, would have killed me.  Particularly in light of her being in a marriage she can't yet extricate herself from.

But, it was love.  For me, anyway.  Without doubt.  And I'll feel her impression for a long time coming.  If you knew her, you would know just how fine I am with that.  I may grow to regret my decision, but I'll be able to take solace in knowing that she'll be able to better find herself without me interrupting her search.

Because of her, I've learned that it's easy to be blindsided.  Even when you're looking.

How so very strange a thing to have happened.

Always forever now, SAB.  Never stop smiling.

Always forever now.

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