buttered toast

Much Love

I’ve got a shitload of things to do but this is for you. Every one of you.

A hot man of, then, thirty one, once told me it’s friends, lovers or nothing - there can really only ever be one. “There’ll never be an in between so give it up”, he said. I bought it, at the tender age of sixteen and made a mental note. LOL, I carved it all around the walls of my brain.

So, that’s that. Ends three ways; manage to keep things platonic and stay friends. Great. Fortunately they let you in, then, wow, good for you. They don’t and the feeling stays, then paper bag over the head and scram. 

Too obvious moves.

That’s why I feel a burgeoning compassion for those who still stand and stick around at the gates to get even just glimpses of what it’s like on the inside. People with much love. I’d love to offer them the free advice and spare them the agony but a love that big deserves to be bathed in the light of day, not muffled in the hopes of it eventually dying out just because of the dictates of made-up beliefs of hot men.

I have no genius game plan to propose for them to finally rid that person’s head of the friends-lovers-or-nothing concept, I’m all out of fool-proof schemes at the moment, but this post is dedicated to them. To you guys who are now sheepish with the realization that I actually am referring to you. Yes, you with the tad bit too many song lyrics all over your facebook walls and tumble logs that hit home.  This is for you.

I dub thee noble barf bags.

Here’s for being there when they need you and when they don’t.
Here’s for being close by lover after lover so you could clean up after the mess that they are in in-betweens. I know you look forward to those in-betweens because you can pretend you have them all to yourselves even when all you talk about is that lucky douche.
Here’s for not loosing your cool when they make it clear you can’t be more than friends.

Here’s for having them at their worst and loving them, still.
Here’s for picking up the slack when you know you really don’t have to.
Here’s to sitting, waiting, wishing.

You deserve love, but all you get is a blog post. YOUR LIFE: HOW UNFAIR. Haha. Kidding aside, I do hope you get what you want in the end.

Another hot man of thirty five (must be wiser) just recently told me we should never have to defend being friends and lovers. Boy, I hope that whomever it is that you guys have been making a fool of yourselves for all these years, they start listening to Incubus.