Campfyre Stories

I think that the children of the 60’s got it a little bit wrong.  Well, maybe that’s a harsh statement.  I think they got it right, but somewhere along the line, the signals got crossed and the idea of Free Love and even “Make Love, Not War” became entwined with the also-occurring sexual revolution.  But the original idea was there…  at least for a little while.

Free love isn’t about fucking anyone who expresses interest or desire.  It’s not “free sex”, it’s a concept of allowing yourself the freedom to love people fully, without having the romantic attachments involved.  It’s a brotherly or sisterly love, a platonic love that lasts forever… no matter what you do or say, no matter how long you stay in the other person’s life, when you love, it is forever.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve preferred the company of boys to girls.  What this has often meant is that my close male friends think that they’ve fallen in love with me.  I’ve broken more hearts than I care to count, but I think there’s a reason for that.  It can be hard to distinguish between loving someone and being in love with that same someone.  I’ve seen it happen where my relationship with a close male friend has needed to be redefined by an outside party to relieve us of the sexual tension.  Once that happens, though, the whole relationship can move to a different level - one where we can acknowledge the fact that we do love each other, but without the complications of wondering if there’s that “in love” quality.

I believe that being in love means that when you look in the other person’s eyes, you see yourself reflected in the very best light.  Not reflected from within you, but from either the way the other person sees you or, at the very least, how you *want* them to see you.  Being in love is far too often confused with simple infatuation.  I think that we often convince ourselves that we’re in love with people we’re merely infatuated with because the concept of love and being in love has been so heavily romanticized that it’s craved, sought after and pursued, which really defeats the purpose.  To butcher something poignant that I read from an online friend of mine, “You don’t get to pick.  Love chooses you.”

I’ve come to realize that I’ve probably only truly been in love twice.  Once many years ago, and I have blogged about that and again recently, which I have also blogged about and for a million different complicated reasons, still haven’t said or done anything about.  I have, however, convinced myself that I was in love several times in  between.  Sometimes out of desperation, sometimes out of hope, always while truly loving the person I was with.  It took me years to learn to make the distinction.

See, maybe it was how I was raised, maybe it’s the simple fact of being a flower grandchild, but regardless of the reasonings behind it, I love very freely and easily.  Society, overall, does not give me much opportunity to say “I love you” to those I do without it turning into something awkward or dirty or without the pretense of being drunk.  I care very deeply for people, once I let them in.  I am loyal to a fault.  If they let me, I would give them the world, even if it meant sacrificing of myself to do so…  and sometimes it does.  Once I love, I love forever, even when I can’t have them in my life anymore, or they can’t have me, or we simply drift apart.  That love is unbreakable for me, I believe it’s the same for others, but only if/when they allow themselves the freedom to love back.

Thankfully, in my life, I think it’s not as rare as I have, and sometimes still do, fear it to be.

If I thought it were possible without omissions, to list either the people I love or at least those I love who I have lost, in some manner, I would do so, but it would literally and physically pain me to forget people, which I would.  Instead, I’ll just hope that you know who you are… those of you I love.  Take it for what it is and don’t try to read into it, because love isn’t all that complicated.  It’s hormones and emotions and societal…  *thinks*…  taboos?  that make it so.

It’s very simple.  We love.  It’s not about sex, it’s not about romance, it’s about family and friends and caring.  It’s about loyalty.  It’s about taking joy in the joy of others and feeling sadness because someone you love is sad.  It’s a sharing of emotions and a desire to do so.  It just is.  And we’d all be better off, as a whole and individually, if we could just accept it…  and remember that it’s ok, as long as we don’t make it complicated.

Love,

~FG };^>