"Often our first is when we are young, in high school even. It’s the idealistic love—the one that seems like the fairytales we read as children."
"The second is supposed to be our hard love—the one that teaches us lessons about who we are and how we often want or need to be loved. This is the kind of love that hurts, whether through lies, pain or manipulation."
"And the third is the love we never see coming. The one that usually looks all wrong for us and that destroys any lingering ideals we clung to about what love is supposed to be. This is the love that comes so easy it doesn’t seem possible. It’s the kind where the connection can’t be explained and knocks us off our feet because we never planned for it."
When I think back to the three gentlemen I've had significant feelings for in my life, her description is pretty accurate. Though we had our share of struggles, any time I look back on that first love, I do so with a smile. With him lie the memories of school dances and Friday night football games, goofy folded-up love letters scribbled during class, long conversations about nothing, and those big future hopes and dreams created in the minds of high schoolers.
The second is just as Ms. Rose said: the tough one. The one that started as the fairy tale I was looking for - with roses and grand gestures - and ended in broken promises and unforgivable words from both sides. I think we spent more time fighting than we did talking, both of us trying to be ourselves and someone else at the same time to appease the other. The one that shattered my heart almost so completely that I thought I'd never feel anything again.
And then hubs came along. That third love. The one I didn't even want to think about considering, because I felt too broken to be such a burden on anyone else. Somehow, without trying, he found his way around the wall I'd put up and slowly eeked his way into my heart. I hadn't looked at another guy in the year since love #2 and I had broken up. I couldn't fathom the thought of another human's fingers intertwined with mine as we set forth on the rest of our lives. I couldn't even relax enough to let someone hug me - girl, boy, family, friend. No one. I was lost. And by the second time I'd met hubs I knew; my heart had decided before my mind could object that this was a man worth taking down a brick or two for. I hadn't planned on loving anyone else, but that's the thing about life: it often goes exactly the opposite of what we have planned.
When I look back though, each one helped me to understand a little better what love was - but more importantly, what love was not. Every day, when the kids have been chauffeured to activities and dinner is done and we have a moment to breath, I have the opportunity to take a look at hubs and feel exactly the same way I did in those first few meetings: like my heart cannot possibly love him any more. We don't have folded-up love notes, and we certainly have our share of fights, but there is no one who makes me feel more loved than he does.
I've always been a sucker for romance stories, which is probably why everything I write contains romance. But no better story has been written than the one I'm living.