privilege of being His second love, the

Valentines Day Background Two Red Hearts On Vintage Wooden Table By Romolo Tavani

In the movies, the “best” loves aren’t the first ones. 

Funny, isn’t it?  In the movies, the main character often goes through several false attempt loves before they find their lasting connection. Sometimes they even need to experience those initial loves to appreciate their “last” love (at least so far as the movie goes.)

This last is usually portrayed as the “real” love, which I find unfortunate, as I believe all loves are real.  But, anyway, certainly the first love is rarely “the one.”

I am not sad that I missed being His first love, I am grateful I met him when he learned what Love truly meant.

By the time I met him, he’d gone through a whole version of love.  He knew what he wanted.  Not what someone told him to want. 

When I met Him, he had a Love.  Or what he thought was love.  It helped him learn what he actually wanted with me.  I felt he was surer of himself, and I found it attractive.  Dear God, I, at least, was so more sure of myself than with my first love!  Maybe that didn’t mean much, but it was something.   

It isn’t a Cinderella story to say you want to be the second love.

But there is a strength towards building a Love with someone who knows what Love is– and what is not.  Who has loved through Fire.  Whose approach towards Love is not flippant, but carefully chosen.  When he finally said, I love you, it was a whisper in the night.  I wasn’t sure I heard it.  But it stayed with me all this time.  The weight I felt when I heard the words, soft as air.  I don’t remember the first time other men, or women, told me they loved me.  They said it almost too easily.  He did not.

There is a surety in his voice when he says, “I love you.”  I wonder if any woman before me heard the tone, as well as the words.  I know, but I know that he and I will be together forever.  As long as I stay true and loyal to him, and I have no intention of breaking that.  I will do anything for him, because he does everything for me.

Perhaps I will have my Cinderella story one day.

I’ll meet that girl.  We’ll glance at each other through a crowded bar, and fall instantly in love.  No burdens, no baggage.

I do love all kinds of Love.  I don’t particularly care to being another straight girl’s sexual experiment, but maybe I could be her first Love after many failed attempts.  Or the Love that sparks her light.  How sweet, no?

But I will always be grateful that I had the chance for knowing Love after love.

Besides, if you’re going to be someone’s love, it sounds a lot better to say, “I wasn’t their first choice, but I was their last choice and the best choice,” than “They were the one that got away,” doesn’t it?

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