The wildest love is young love. This is the kind when love happens like magnets pulling together, and wherever you are, wherever you choose to go, this is the kind of love that causes us to sneak away, to find a closet somewhere, or maybe even a bathroom while trying to hush each other to keep our operation discrete. A love like this is new and so unexplored. And even the quick little secret getaways, the ones that cause us to go in places where we could possibly be caught; and living on the edge or on the verge of something so wild like sex without limitation, a love like this can cause an incredible and beautiful blindness. The whole world could sink and everything could end, but when love like this comes around, nothing else matters. We could both die tomorrow, but who would care because everything we have is more alive than we thought we could ever feel. Even the quick little score, the short little sex romps, the ones we say are done, “Just to get it in,” are packed with more lust and nectar than any words can describe
I say the wildest love is this kind of love: This is the kind where we’re parked in a car somewhere deep in the back of a large parking lot by a lamppost at night in the middle of a rainstorm. And perhaps this is the hottest kind of love. The energy behind this is so overwhelming and the feelings that begin are not only unexpected, they are so wonderfully entangle us in a way that we never thought possible. And as such, in a way, this is the kind of love that can leave a man debilitated, as if without her, he can do and be nothing. And suddenly, this is when the man realizes his life does not work without hers being involved.
Overwhelmed and overloaded, this is the kind of love when our attraction fits the energy that matches the sound of over a hundred thousand raindrops splattering on the roof of the car that we parked in beneath the lamppost. The nighttime heavens wash down the world with large droplets of rain, echoing on the inside of the car, and the windows fog while the heavy rainfall rolls down the windshield like sheets water; meanwhile, the two of us are in the backseat with only pieces of clothing dangling off of one leg. Our breathing is heavy, the air is hot, and between us, the magnet which pulls us together is an energy that is nothing short of unstoppable.
I say there are different versions of love; same as I say there are different stages of love. There are the nights where all is quiet and by the suggestion of your touch, I find myself firm and wanting. I suppose you can tell this. And I know you can tell this because the way you move your body closer to mine, one inch at a time, slowly and cool. And I find this sexy because I know this means you understand what you do to me. I know this means you understand what makes me tick. This means you know how to turn me on without even touching me, and just by the slightest suggestion of your touch, you already know that you could have me at any time. . .
And there are other nights—the more proper ones where we are dressed in fine clothes, out at an affair, and I look at you, dressed as fine as ever. I watch you and the way you smile. I look at the way you styled your hair. I notice your earrings, twinkling with diamonds in the shining light of a ballroom, dangling from the bottom of your ear and hanging over a section of your neck, which I know full and well—all I would need to do is kiss you there, and then kiss you behind your ear—maybe nibble at you a little bit, and if I pull off this move, I know you would be ready for me when we got back home.
This is a great kind of love. This is committed love. This is when families intermingle. This is when the holiday season takes on a new meaning because our family is doubling in size. This is when the early years paid us in full; we made it to the next step, and while standing in front of you in a place which we call our bedroom—I look at you and I swear I’m so glad that you’re mine.
This is when I take the opportunity to watch you undress. This is when I think about all the details you put into getting ready; this is when I realize that I watched you from the beginning of the evening; I was able to see you throughout the evening, and now, standing in front of you, at last, I have the opportunity to watch you undress and undo your clothes until naked.
This is the kind of love that I call most rewarding. Life is young and the future is ahead. Everything we have is everything we’ve worked for. And oh yes, love is work. Love is certainly not free, but without nights like this one, love can come without benefits, which is why I try as often as I can to sneak in when you’re getting ready; this way I have the chance to enjoy you more when you get undressed.
I can detail you perfectly with my eyes closed. I can tell you when your hips begin to swerve and how your curves fascinate me. I can tell you these things as well as explain the way I can smell you when you walk in a room. And I love this too. I love that I can smell you and by the hint given off by the sweet scent of your soft skin; I love the fact that I could retire from a long day and smile easily because I know this smell of you will linger on my pillow enough to help me dream.
Years will pass. Things will happen, kids may come and bills will pile. The cars will break down, and the house will need repair. Our bodies will change and the novelty of young lust will transform into commitment of love. We no longer need to rush off anywhere because rushing quickens the time, and the best kind of love is the all-encompassing love. This is the kind of love that allows a man to realize, there is no race and no reason to cross the finish line. No, on the contrary, this is the kind of love that makes a man choose to slow down. This is the kind that makes a man sit back as he looks at his family to feel a sense of accomplishment. This is the kind of love that leaves a man at any age and no matter how long it has been since the first day until the current time; this is the thing that leaves a man helplessly, hopelessly, and endlessly in love.
I often think of an elderly couple that goes into a place called The Scotrun Diner on Route 611 in a town called Scotrun, Pennsylvania. I have only seen the old couple a few times in my life but I consider them both as unforgettable and important examples of how I want to be one day (with you).
The elderly couple comes in The Scotrun Diner at the same time every day. They order desert as they sit across from one another, adoringly now as they have been since the day they met.
They are well dressed and appear like you would expect old loving grandparents to look like. Both of them are white haired with wrinkled skin and the scattered spots that come with age. I see them both as an example of hope. I see them as a source of inspiration because truly, the love they share is the kind of love I want to feel with you.
I have felt the kind of love that we pretend is real. I have felt the kind that we often regret and once we learn to leave; this is the kind of love that proves to us that what we lived through is not love at all. It was nowhere close to love. More accurately, we wanted love so badly that we settled, and having realized this; we realize that we can never settle again. By the way, this kind of love right here—the kind of love that we regret with all we have—this is the same reason why divorce is expensive (because it’s worth it!) and this teaches us never to make the same mistakes again.
Love is very real to me. It is the bravest emotion we can feel and I don’t ever want to waste it again . . .
Above anything, and more important than any first impression; there is nothing more important; there is nothing more life-changing, and nothing more binding, more connecting, and more promisingly irreversible than the feel of a first good kiss. After all, this is how it all starts. It all begins here with the first kiss. After that, there is no end in sight, and so long as two people mutually work to maintain that kiss on a daily basis, practicing each day without failure to try new things and continue enjoying the old things; life will never be loveless.
There are many different versions, shades, and phases of love—but this last one, the kind that comes with the keys to a life, lived happily ever after, this is the best of them all.
But still . . .
It’d still be nice to find a parking lot in the rain one night. We could park all the way in the back beneath one of the glowing streetlamps and feel the energy that falls with the heavy rain as it echoes in the car as the windows fog and the last pieces of our clothing dangles from one ankle.
PS: The weatherman says it looks like it’s going to rain tomorrow night.
Any interest in taking a ride?