Skip to main content

Sweet Torture

I love reading the "Modern Love" section in The New York Times. There's one long essay every wee and  a column for Tiny Love Stories. I don't get to them as often as I'd like, but when I find the time, I bing on them. Although I find the stories inspiring, I usually spend the majority of my reading time either fighting tears or drying my eyes.

One might ask why I continue to read them when I react that way. After all, subjecting myself to such unnecessary pain seems pointless. 

For one, the writing is superb. Even though the content makes me cry, I can't deny the wordsmithery used in telling the stories. Another reason I keep reading is that I need to see that love IS possible. Although it has yet to find me, I see that it can exist for others.

You know what's even worse that reading love stories? Watching them play out in the real lives of the high school students I teach. I've given out more relationship advice than I ever thought I would to teenagers since I started touching the future in the classroom. (And NO I do NOT mean in a literal, hands-on way.)

I honestly love watching the kids pair up -- especially the ones that make sense. It's cool to be at the beginning of someone's love journey. I try my best to give the kind of advice that I needed at that age -- like how forgiveness in important and how it's okay to walk away from someone that doesn't have your best interests at heart. How I wish I'd had someone in my life to tell me those things. Maybe I'd be the star of my own  Modern Love story.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

He's Gone...For Real

My uncle died. He actually ceased to live. I don't know how to handle this. Even though he was my mother's brother, he was so much more than that to me. He was the coolest cat on the block, He set the standard that every man had to meet. He was the one I compared every man in my life to. For all intents and purposes, he was my de facto dad. I am stunned. I feel like someone knocked the wind out of my body. I grew up watching him. If he sat up straight, I wanted to sit up straight. I once caught him standing up to pee. I thought I'd do that when I grew up, too. (You can just imagine that conversation). That's the thing...he never shied away from my craziness. When I discovered what a father was -- at the tender age of five -- I purposed in my heart to find one for myself. I asked every man I knew, including him, if they'd be my daddy. He said, "I can't be your dad. I'm your uncle." When I pressed, he gently explained that he already had a significan...
Post a Comment
Read more

A Middle Aged Rant

I am single. I’ve never had a husband. I’ve never given birth to a child. I’ve never lived with a man over six months. I am 54. I’m not classically pretty. I’m overweight. I’m not very tall. My brother says I’m a unicorn. My friends are kind enough not to make me feel small. My mother mentions in passing that she wants me to find a husband. I try not to be sad about my state. I’ve lived a life that some would find enviable. I had my dream job, met and interviewed great people, made great friends, and traveled all over the world. I have a new career that I find oddly fulfilling. Men don’t always like that. Some of them are jealous because I’m not easily impressed. Some are jealous because I’ve done things they haven’t. Some are jealous because I’ve lived on both coasts. I don’t know what to do. I can’t change my life – not that I want to. I can’t change my past – not that I want to. I can’t change myself –not that I want to. I just want someone to see me, not the image I present. I want...
Post a Comment
Read more

I Own My Tears

I own my tears. I used this as a hashtag on a Facebook post. I was talking about the movie, "The Fault in Our Stars." If you've seen it, you know what I mean, and I won't spoil it for you. Of course, you know me -- it's deeper than that. I need to say it out loud... I own my tears. New Boo meant the world to me. He really did. Our relationship meant the world to me. It really, really did. And now it's over and he's gone -- seemingly for good. That makes me cry more than I want to, and more than I have ever imagined I would. And while I hate it, I need to do this. I need to mourn this thing in its entirety because it has truly changed my life. I own my tears. I own the fact that I am hurt. I own the fact that I'm mourning a relationship that I wanted to work more than life itself. I wanted to be a part of a couple, and eventually a family. That may well happen for me one day. Today, though, it doesn't look likely. So yes, I cry. And you ...
1 comment
Read more