Musings on loving

Love. Most people want it, and who can blame them? It’s a wondrous thing. I used to think I couldn’t really love. Then I learned I could. Then I thought that my love was probably limited to one person. Then I learned it wasn’t. It’s been a very slow walk down this particular path. And I’m not even sure I’ve reached the end of it yet!

I liken how I love to a well. It’s a very oddly shaped well, but I think that’s the best analogy. I still think there are edges to it. It isn’t like the ocean or the air. It isn’t everywhere. And you can reach the end of it. It’s also not as easily available as the air we breathe or an ocean you can just run jump into. There are walls. They’re big and thick and high.

And on top of that, the opening to that well isn’t very big. And I don’t mean that you can’t fit an elephant through it. I mean that you probably couldn’t fit a bucket through it. Not even a small one. You might be able to fit a thimble through it. With a generous amount of lube to help things through. It requires trust.

He has to trust that there’s a way in. And sometimes he has to trust that there’s also a way back out. And that there’s water in there at all, that the well isn’t actually empty. Then he has to be willing to go to the well, because that well isn’t going to come to him. But if he can manage to get past all that…

The water in there is both cool and calm, and alternatively full of vicious waves that will toss you around. And it’s pretty vast in the well. It’s a whole universe. To find those edges, you’d need a very large ship. And a lot of time. Once I figured out how to love, I proceeded to do it with great abandon. It’s probably why the opening to my vast sea of love is so small. And it’s also probably good that one can’t just accidentally fall into the well. It’s not the kind of sea that just anyone should try to swim in.

Some can tread the waters or even thrive in the water. Some might swim like a beluga and play in the waves. But I think that there are also a lot of people who would drown instead.

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One response to “Musings on loving

  1. Good writing is a kink of mine, like bondage is, like heels are, like spankings are ,like denial is. It thrills me. It scares me. It makes me cry, and it makes me laugh. It is a Mistress of whom I never tire.

    I love it most when I least expect it. Like tonight. I came to your blog searching for a sexual thrill. I wanted that moment of disconnected fetish. I wasn’t looking for a moment of connected love.

    The well imagery is fascinating. I love the tiny opening that allows only those truly searching for love, the opportunity to enter. The powerful picture of the sea as both a place of calm and a place of tumult is a beautiful image of the nature of love.

    There is much joy, beauty, and tragedy in the well. The possibility that many who tempt the waters will drown is sad. But love can be sad, can’t it? Its sweetness lies buried in that bitterness.

    Thank you for the opportunity to indulge, unexpectedly, in my love and admiration for those who write well. Thank you for the chance to satisfy my kink.

    Respectfully,
    Stan

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