Scared to Love...

Scared to Love

by: Ian Christopher Lee

 Memories and pictures, thoughts and ideas chronicle loves beginning. When the innocents of attraction blossomed into the naivety of love for the first time. 

Somewhere loves innocence grew into lives unforgiving reality and then changed love forever. Casting me upon a quest to restore loves magical beginning, decades after loves end. Or does it ever end at all, when love is true?

A Groom in a Tom Thumb wedding is informed that he may now salute the bride. His parents poised in uncertainty. Her parents consumed in the vision of their young bride in years to come.

           The Groom turned to the bride, beautiful and radiant, she stood. They were both no more than five and six years old. And at that age, kissing a girl was the last thing on the mind of a little boy. So he turned and looked frantically, for help from his mother. No rescue in sight. 

So he bravely turned to the bride, standing there dwarfing him by inches, and did exactly what any five year old would do, he arched his back, slowly raised his right hand to his forehead, and saluted with the pride of a military veteran.           

The church filled with laughter. He smiled…a close call avoided, the ultimate symbol of love, and a prediction of things to come for a boy scared to love as a man.

That was decades ago. Never since for the groom that never has been. But the bride grew up to have her day. The families still remember it all as if it were yesterday. 

For many years, we never spoke after that first salute. Until one day, in the excitement of puberty, I decided to follow-up on what may have been a youthful missed opportunity. 

So I winked, I waved. I wrote notes and open doors. I sat attentively and tried to get her to notice me more. She’d smile, yet never said a thing. She had found a new interest. I think Tony was his name.

I would get to church early and try to sit on the same pew. And if you could have seen the blossom of my childhood bride, you would have too. She was beautiful, and now I was old enough to see. And somehow there was not an ounce of fear in me. Too innocent to understand the power of this bliss.

After a long pursuit, see finally answered one of my notes. It seemed things had change for her, and Tony was now ghost. 

So I stepped up my game and went on full pursuit. Fear never crossed my mind, this was the girl for me and I was determine not to miss out this time.

Her parents were alarmed, they really felt that we were too young to even consider falling in love. 

But it was too late, we had decided that we were to be. We talked on the phone, I wrote her a letter love letters every day. We had no fear, no fear at all of love.  

From that point on, we were inseparable. Well, as inseparable as you could be at 16. To us this was love, something that neither of us where afraid of. Head over heels in young love. Too early to recognized, on my way to be sprung. 

I would ride my bike seven miles to see here. We’d sit on the steps of her house and every now and then, her parents would look out. But we were together and that was all we needed.

But we were only 16 and 17 years old. Just old enough to get in trouble, or so our parents thought. 

I remember the day, it was the best of all our plans, I skipped my baseball practice and she skipped band. I borrowed my father’s car and picked her up from her school. We had a couple of hours to find our way, so we explored. It was the first time, but not our last. You never forget no you never forget when love confirms its existence. 

What has time done to that feeling so pure? Filled with bliss and unaffected by the uncertainty of love’s trust. Afraid now to listen to my heart and unable to hear what it’s saying, the sound of love now muffled by pain.

Lives go in solitary directions on journeys to maturity. Destinations differing, never forgetting the origin of the first time I wasn’t afraid to love.

Fearlessly in love for the first time, I threw caution to the wind and so did she. Never again have I been so fearlessly in love, and often I have wished I could. 

For I have missed a few beautiful ladies that have loved me unconditionally and without fear.  And like that little boy, I could not salute again. You know who you are, and more than that; you know how I fill. I loved them all, and even still. The fear of love won again for through the pain of loves disappointment in me; I've lost loves friends. Friendship is the cornerstone of true love.

Was it the responsibility of love or the acceptance of the truth? For to truly return one's love, you must remove all shields. The reminder of loves pain is unforgiving. Yet in the beginning we had established a date, to make the full commitment, no we were not just kids in love, our marriage we planned and after college for both of us. 

How could I commit my life in loves youth but now I find myself paralyzed with an unknown fear? 

Trust is earned and not given. Love’s wounds seem to take forever to heel. I accept that too truly love, I must remove all of my inhibitions. Loves harder than being a man.

Like most first loves, it ended as if an assassins bullet had perched me in the center of my heart. Even today I remember the process of a phone call to bring a reality that may be part of the origin of my questions of love. 

My Tom Thump bride had found another while I was away in college. Love shattered by trust. 

My tears flowed endlessly. Cupid’s arrow had broken off into my heart and killed my naivete. 

Never more I vowed, never would I allow myself to feel such pain again. And yet I have felt it a million times and more. 

Tears have no age limit or gender. Love’s acceptance is hardened by the years. Honesty becomes more important that activity, for in my maturity I have accepted that I am not perfect nor is she.

I am a wounded man. Love’s first wound rarely heals alone. It takes time and often a woman that has the maturity to nurture the admiration of love.

And even if I never salute those that have loved me without reward since the first time, I haven’t forgot the feeling of love shared.

It did not matter that I had been unfaithful too. It was do as I say, not as I do. Love really has no double standard. You get what you give.

           Now I am mature enough to rekindle the concept, but unwilling to yield the care of my heart to another. I will never hurt again, but I have. And even in my solitude, for many I do.

Love is never guaranteed and I know that I have missed a few. Love is not a boomerang, it may never return. 

If I could resurrect the oneness and live to breathe for someone else again, would I ? Better yet, would you?

These questions hunt me today and will for many years to come. If I had never been hurt so deeply by love would it be easier today, to love? 

Yet I have, for I have been blessed to meet a few that have loved me like I once loved you. Too many times I have not been able to give to them what I gave to you, love so unselfish, unconditional and true.

Love often leaves without announcement, never to return. For when I feel it coming I often make a quick turn. You must confront it and hope that it is reciprocal. It is very hard to be in love alone. 

 So I often sit in my solitude and let it burn. You don’t miss your water until your well runs dry. Now when I call, love won’t even answer the phone.

Love is often unforgiving, when it is not rewarded. They say it takes a fool to learn, but to learn you must pay attention. Attention to loves callings.

The older I get, the easier it truly is to fall in and out of loves spell. And though I think of it and want to call, I remember the hell of love’s pain and I move on. To mask loves pain in my masculinity. 

Surviving in my protection from the possibilities of love. And still not truly knowing what I am afraid of.

Is it the vulnerability that love commands if I love you? Or the responsibility of accepting that you love me too?

In time loneliness gets unrewarding and the risk of loving out ways the risk of loves pain. 

Sometimes I find myself standing on the field of love, but not wanting back in the game. 

Am I apprehensive to take the risk of being hurt again? Or would it be harder to let love slip away, like grains of sand through my hand.

So I retreat to my comfort, the TV, the job. Spend more time writing or working in the yard. Lonely but not alone, I still glance at your picture or hear our special song. And for a moment, I think about the days we loved and accept that those days are gone. 

If today, I could identify my fear, if I had never felt love’s pain, I would welcome the reality of love forever and still it would never be the same. For I have lost many a love’s to my undefined fear. 

Loves apologies are no comfort for loves pain, so my calls for loves return remain unanswered.

What ever happened to that feeling that makes you dress in matching clothes? Or laugh and giggle for no apparent reason. What happen to sitting on the phone for hours, saying little if anything? 

Occasionally asking each other, “what you doing?” Nothing, what you doing…the response. More silence to follow, but happy in the sound of her breath. Awakening to static filled television screen, the phone lying next to your ear without sound.   

A feeling strong enough to make you dawn a white tuxedo, peach ruffles and white patent leather shoes with white socks as you head out to the senior prom. Never since.

Truly, I could pen a million words to tell the experiences that robbed me of love’s innocence.     The realities that caused me to harden, to fear, to run. Many tears since dried. And the wanting for it all again, unfamiliar with the path to love’s return. But to do so would not change loves reality today.

Time seems to pass, then repeats and somehow appears to remain the same. Loves lessons permanently recorded but never written nor spoken aloud. The memories of my heart filled with pain. Sleepless nights and misguided trust. Reality becomes pain, experience, fears then reality again. The present becomes the past.

They all mess up, cheat, lie and mislead. I’ll just play the game and that way I will never get played. The more the merry, another notch in my belt and more. Anger and immaturity spoken by a heart bleeding tears from love’s wound.

As we grow, we realize that the pain of love is as blind as its joy. For every tear shed in the name of love’s pain, I have caused many more. The pain of love is sometimes unintentional and sometimes not. But its uncertainties often spoil its joys.

So I remain apprehensive, allusive and scared of loves reunion. Scared to love again. And yet I do. Scared to trust again, yet I must. Scared to hurt again and yet I am hopeful, I shall. There has to be more to life than loneliness.

Will I ever commit to stop fearing the risk and volatility of loves pain, to welcome back the joys and fulfillment of love’s gain? To look within me for the loves that have created me, and love me in my entirety. Sharing in my laughter when happy and wiping away my tears when sad.

I miss love’s comfort when shared, when appreciated and protected.  And yet I have waited, hesitated and debated many a love’s too long. They say nothing last forever and I really hope that is true. 

Is it better to have loved and lost? I may never know.

But to never have loved at all, even with loves disappointments and pains, would have been a tragedy. Pain is an early lesson learned without pursuit. Learning how to love and protect the one that love’s you, is another lesson that may take a lifetime to pass or fail. 

I truly miss the overwhelming joy of loving and being in love. The comfort of being loved unconditionally. And the maturity to recognize the importance of those that find a way to love you in spite of all that makes me who I am.

I would welcome the excitement expressed in the union of love’s smile. The growth accomplished through loves joys and pains. I miss wanting to feel wanted.  

I dearly want to be with you just to be with you. Wanting nothing, more than to be next to one again as I get that last kiss good night and that first kiss in the morning. Love tugs at ones masculinity at times and exposes your vulnerabilities. And yet we still love.

           But love doesn’t happen by chance, at least after the first time. I accept the responsibility to cherished, supported and nurtured those that do the same to me and even those that have yet to recognize its value. 

Many have exclaimed, “Be careful what you ask for…because you just might get it.” The responsibilities of love are endless.

           So, I will shelter my fear in my existence. Even through days filled with thoughts of loves shared, lost and missed. For today I am stronger, I am a man.

Bravado has no room for the weakness of love. My heart must be protected from the pain of loves past. Yet, accepting of the responsibilities that come with loving you and accepting that you truly love me.  And my heart, my heart remains hungry for the return of love and more.

           Many have concluded that I have no interest in love at all. And many more have concluded that I am fully satisfied in my solitary single existence. Freedom of choice in a land of many choices. Love’s appearance has many views. In a land of many, a search for one.

           Today, I am destine to continue my battle to concur my fear. To pursue my desire for oneness. To fantasize about loves comfort and come home to the emptiness of my existence. The process in search of love is painful. My patients now shorter than my interest in love's quest, Thy will not my will be done.

           I shall continue my recovery from the long lost innocence of love to loves reality today. The boy groom, now man, has to wonder if he was afraid of the kiss of love or the commitment required to nurture its growth. 

Loves fear symbolized by a salute even before we had been introduced. Now a man, still uncertain of the answer to my puzzle of love, I still stand hesitant to salute. 

Not because I don’t want to, no he I truly would love to every day, every minute and every waking hour. You don’t miss love until it’s gone and that’s too late.

Though I still have not identified my fears. Not willing to surrender, I will still say “hello…or excuse me” to the endless possibilities. 

Maybe one day it will be you and you might just be scared to love too. It would be a blessing to meet someone and find that I am not scared to love one more time.

 

copyright pending Ian Christopher Lee