What kind of love do men feel? I considered searching for opinions and comparing them to what I come up with, but then I decided that since I am writing this from a man’s perspective, specifically mine, that I would just go with my own thoughts. After all, I’ve been told in the past there isn’t a doubt about my being a man. I’ve always taken that as a compliment.
What love does a man feel? I could go into the various loves of sports and foods but I’m not doing that today. Instead I wanted to discuss the real things that pull, pound, and pulverize the heart. The kinds of love that when they don’t go right, leave you feeling like you have the worst flu any man can ever have.
This is about loves for a woman. This is about the loves that men don’t talk about. This about the loves men deny that have to their friends. But if you are a man and you say you’ve never had one of these loves, then . . . count yourself blessed or else have an exam done because you are in denial.
Men get those loves. Is there a level order of love? Men think much of order in things like this. I’m not sure why and I don’t really care to delve into the why. At this moment my heart is on loves. I often wonder when it isn’t.
I see no reason to not just say I as I write this. Why not say man or men? I’m speaking from what I know. I am sure other men feel or have felt what I might talk about, but this is me. As I begin this I have no plan. What you read will be whatever comes out of me as I go. Think of this as an open heart letter unedited.
My Loves: A Man’s Testimony of Heart
Love from afar. I know her but she’s out of reach. The thought of her for a moment makes the world lighter than air but then the aching heart begins. My mind quickly tells me the truth. I fight it. I don’t want to know the truth, I just want those moments of happiness, even if they are illusions and delusions. They only harm me. Why can I not enjoy them for a moment?
Perhaps she knows and feels the same. Perhaps she has no clue. Perhaps she is a love that just cannot happen. Perhaps she’s a friend that I know I don’t want to lose by speaking the truth I know she does not want to hear or does not want confirmed. Love that is happiness for seconds at a time followed by hours of destruction . . . I take it.
I have experienced Rejected Love. Some may call it unrequited love, but it’s rejected love. I give my love openly and knowingly and it is rejected. Does that stop the love? No. This love is like an anger that one keeps and hangs onto to enjoy in the suffering because it is better to suffer while loving than not to have that loving feeling in the heart as well. I cannot help what the heart feels. Can I make the effort to move on, to get passed it? Yes.
But I love the feeling of love and want to hang onto it until it burns me inside and there is nothing left. The scars will remain and the aches like healed broken bones ache during cold winters will return to remind me of my rejection. And I will love her again and be happy for a moment only to burn again. My heart wants the moments of loving.
There is the Love to be Married. A confusing love in that it is the love of being with someone or is it the love that truly makes one love this one not just for the being with someone but being with this one only? It’s the love that can be the greatest but also the easiest? Why is it the one with the most questions? It’s the love that was set before us from the beginning of time. Even though it can be the easiest love to live with it can also be the most difficult to live with.
In true form married love is that love I give all of me and I receive all of her in return. It is an understanding love? What if the understanding is not there?
There is the Lost Love. A love that is gone and I cannot get back. Did I do something, did she? What happened? Can it be grabbed and regained? The agony of having happiness and then for it be gone but still out there, perhaps to be mine again, or belonging to another now. Whatever the reason I am to blame. Perhaps I did not do enough to make her happy. Perhaps I was the one to foolishly throw it away.
Another scar of my own creation, but this one to be forever toyed with and twisted to induce pain and ache. I am a fool.
There is the Forever Lost Love that comes with death. Did I not do enough to keep her safe? Did I do something to make her sick? Was I not strong enough and good enough? Was she punished for something I did?
I look through these loves and see only pain and torture. That is not what I meant to write. Is that what love has been for me through the years? I want to give love that is passionate and goes with her wherever she goes. I want it to be a love that she wears and everyone that sees her knows that she is loved.
Love is supposed to be looking into eyes without a word and smiling and her just knowing. Everything completely revealed in the look I give her. Love is supposed to be that hug that only I can give that encompasses her like a blanket and makes her feel safe and I feel all tension of the world fall away. Love is supposed to be that slow kiss that turns into a deep passionate uncontrollable flame.
Love is supposed to be . . . everything I’ve written about so far I suppose, from the very beginning until now. But why does it have to be so lopsided? I know the pains make the joys that much more joyful. But they also make those moments of joyful that much more unforgettable even after destruction.
Men aren’t supposed to be so uncertain about their feelings. We aren’t supposed to admit to what I have admitted to. I stepped away after writing this and now having read it I know there are some who will analyze it to death and wonder what is wrong with me. They will wonder what in my life has made me identify love with pain and loss. Some may even read it that I know and wonder if I am speaking of them.
These are the thoughts that came to mind as I wrote.
I’m not dwelling on that. What I do each day is give my love out there into the world in the form of helping those I can with whatever they need. I give my love to my friends and my loved ones. Love takes many forms and feels different to every person. I want the puppy dogs and rainbows. I read about scars and pain. Yeah, it’s even enough to make me wonder but I’m not going to.
If I focus on all of that I won’t have time to give out love to my friends I’ve met and use that love I have to give me some happiness. When I love I love completely and deeply, be it THE love or love of friendship. I love hard.
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