The Boy
My first 'love' was at age 9. We were friends and began dating because that was what you did. It took us six months to hold hands. We dated for 5 whole years. I still have a small shoe box of his love letters and flowers.
The Innocent
In the beginning there was one. While I was dating the 'boy' I fell in love hard with 'the innocent'. It was everything that first real fall promises. Made even worse that she was straight. C'est la vie.
I don't call her the innocent because she is, with adulthood comes all of the vices. I say the innocent because that was what it was. Little notes tucked in lockers, hands nervously held in darkened movie theatres, soothingly playing with strands of hair.
Through all of the heart ache that came with rejection... I would not go back and change a single thing. Symbols of my youth and young heart are lovingly placed away.
The Complication
Ahh... the complication. He took his time to carefully sneak into my life. Well, not so much sneak. He'd been there. He'd been my complication.
He... had been the 'innocent's boyfriend. We ended up dating mostly because he had dated the 'innocent' and in my mind... if you can't have one, have the other. Mmm... that and well, he assured me that he could help me with my infatuation with his ex.
Liar liar pants on fire. He shouldn't have been surprised when I left him and told him I was a lesbian.
The Artist/Musician
My first week in college I met the 'musician'. She was amazing... feeding the need in my life for beauty and music. She was my polar opposite.
I was madly in love with her. More than I had ever been with anyone... (minus the innocent). I wrote her poetry, she wrote me songs... I watched for hours as she painted... or played cello.
The most beautiful person I have ever met. However, like all great things... eventually things end. We had a lovely relationship that ended in a tug of war for freedom. An artist/musician and a writer... 'twas love.
The Logic
She was older than me, a senior while I was a junior. She was there as the 'musician' faded away. Ours was a relationship born out of the misery of loneliness.
I think this was the most mature relationship I've been in. We were adults. We lived together, we worked, we had shared credit cards and cell phones. We went on vacations... we did things as a couple.
And like a sequel to my past, things collapsed in on themselves. She went away to Law School... I remained in college. We drifted apart.
The Married/ Mistress
The girl at the coffee shop. When I was in need of a stress free environment I would go to the little coffee shop in town... (where I later worked.) The girl who worked there was absolutely captivating.
I came there so often that it apparently because obvious that I was staring because my lattes started showing up with little foam hearts. It was romantic and mysterious. I loved it.
I don't remember how it happened... but we started writing letters to one another, emails, presents... she was an actress for the college theater department. I already worked for the department so I had ample opportunities and excuses to see her.
Needless to say, she was married. And of all of my ex's... she was the second that was not a virgin. We never actually dated... we had a secret almost love affair. I was the mistress... and though I thought I could fall in love with her, things did not play out in my favor.
The Mirror
Some say opposites attract. In this case, exact likenesses attracted more. The 'Mirror' is my capricorn counterpart. It took us both a long time to come to terms with our friendship, as we capricorns are not ones to willingly let others close to us.
We became best friends and only once did things cross the line between friend and lover. Then and forever, she'll always have a place in my heart.
The Soul Mate
There are no words to describe her. She is my everything. She knows me through and through, blood to blood. She is one of the few people that I can sit in a silent room... not say a word... and know exactly what is on her mind.
Never a sexual relationship, ours is a love of intellect, or reason, of muse and artist. She is the ying to my yang.
If I was never to know the love of anyone else, I would feel soothed by her presence. I will never be alone as long as she breaths.
The Femme
The last. I have not yet written a place for her. She has been confined into shoe boxes.
(Today's post is brought to you by a trip through the massive trunk in my bedroom... yeah cleaning.)
Read more: http://www.myspace.com/melanthia_greystone/blog#ixzz0vZVAmHzN
