Prior to meeting Him, Love was defined by passion. An all-consuming fire that would burst into flames and just as suddenly,dwindle to embers. Love was tears and panic, long silences, stonewalling, name calling. Love was the hands that fists as they strike you. Love was being betrayed for the 8 of the 14 years you were  together. Love was forgiving and forgiving for years without the requisite apology. Love was selfish and narcissistic. Love was egotistical and possessive. Love was high drama and intense sadness. it was crippling and enervating. Love thoroughly consumed me that I was Blind. Unfeeling. Mute.

He was my quiet spot.  A cyberplace in the ports of nowhere that welcomed a tattered outrigger. You guessed it. We met online. (and that story will be for another day)

Let’s skip some months, shall we? He declared his love. I was stunned. I was hoping I’ve read it wrong. “I love you.” I tapped. Hit ‘enter’. I sat back. “It can’t be…” I tell myself . I was laughing and shaking my head at the same time. I, in that moment, became a virtual statistic.

I have been looking for all the wrong signals to herald love’s entrance. I thought I’d could keep things platonic. There wasn’t any of all that I had experienced before. Shrug. insidiously, love worked its way with me. In a quiet spot. With my quiet spot.