Sending All My Love...

Picture this scenario: a beautiful young woman (who’s most likely a hopeless romantic) finds a man whose intelligence not only consistently stimulates her mind but also gives her cooch palpitations because, goddammit there is nothing sexier than a man with a brain that functions well. He’s just as intrigued or infatuated by her beauty and brains, so it makes sense that they’d be enamoured by each other. Friendly conversations turn into a battle of the minds as a test of true intellect before they realise the potential for love to grow and blossom between them.

Being hyper-sexual individuals, their views on intimacy and sex align just enough to spark curiosity about what it’d be like for their bodies to intertwine in moments of carnal passion. For weeks, they strived to understand one another and allow their connection to develop into something neither could deny was tangible and potentially long-lasting. Needless to say, everything made sense but felt so rushed, especially for her as she was aware of how tumultuous her past was. In the past, she’d given her heart to people who neglected to care for it, some would not even accept it altogether but, this time, she felt that her heart was safe with this man. With all the delightful chaos he brings, she knew he’d do right by her, so she surrendered her being to his will trusting that it would not lead her back to where she came from.

Relationships, at one point or another, falter. This one, however, never seemed to. For sex months, homegirl has felt over the moon in love with this fine man and won’t hesitate to tell the world about him. On his end, however, he was distracted by another woman. Probably not as smart as his woman, and maybe not as beautiful, but she had his attention. He credits his attraction to her beauty and how well she expresses herself when she longs for him. Her submission of self whenever he asked such of her made her even more wonderful in his eyes. The very same affection and time he gave to his first love he gave to the second. His first was likely aware of the presence of the second, but the second had no idea about the first. As a woman who was kind and somewhat understanding, she was always willing to share him as long as transparency in that regard was a factor. No details were required, but to be kept in the know was a rule she made abundantly clear.

How, then, did his second love experience him at his worst when she is new to the experience that is him? Could it be that she, too, presented herself at her worst or that he was sure of her devotion to him, so bearing all was a convenient break from daily pretence? Why was she so prepared to carry burdens he carried on his shoulders, do so (sometimes reluctantly), and find contentment in the mere acknowledgement of her presence in his life instead of the efforts she made to create a safe space for him to be? How did she put up with four months of disregard for the love she had brought to his table and love him through it all?

His word. That’s all she had — his word. He told her she was beautiful and that the way her mind worked kept him on his toes. He declared devotion to the relationship (not necessarily her) and gave her peace of mind with brief but impactful words of reassurance that she was in safe hands. Whenever he spoke, her mind drank from his well of knowledge and she appreciated every moment she spent learning from and educating him. He gave his word that should the end of their time together ever come, she would be enlightened. Despite her brush with betrayal, which her Love was well aware of, she knew that would not be her portion at his table because she knew him to be a man of his word. His word that uplifted her, corrected her and redeemed her was the very same word he used to prove to her how sincere he was when he told her that he loved her.

Today, his second love is struck with grief. The grief of the death of the word she once held onto was caused by the revelation of her Love’s first love. Grief of what could have been and what ought to be. Like a lone sailor stranded at sea, she hopelessly awaits… his word to return to her to once again assure her that, despite his evident disdain towards her, they’re still in the same boat that’s lost at sea. His first love’s publicised elation about how well she is loved by him is the motivation his second love needs to regenerate a love of self that is potent enough to encourage her to take the lifeboat and take care of herself. She now knows that the man her Love once was is long gone and that she may never see him again. Safety in vulnerability is guaranteed as long as she stays on the lifeboat, clinging to the oars of forgiveness and self-assurance for dear life as she, like a message in a bottle, sends all her love to him wherever he is. To her, sending her love back is not a gesture of giving up on what she and hers have, but rather surrendering to its current state of evolution — just as she had willingly and openly surrendered to him when his love for her, like a message in a bottle, was sent to her.