Love Letter No. __.

 

 

Dear You, 

Last night, in between that unrecognizable silence after the first song and before the next, I would find myself reaching out for your hand, only that I did not see your hand, and more significantly, that you were not there. I did look for you, in the crowd, so exhaustively that it seemed appropriate to shout. 

Breaking away from the party, I looked up and watched in awe as colors burst from the sky. While altering smiling with smoking, with resignation I told myself, "It is true. Some things are meant to be shared with you." 

Merry Christmas, Darling. Mistletoes suck without you.

Cheers,

Me.

Love and Football

I think, LOVE really is more like football, you work hard in trying to defend your goal, and it takes some time before you can score a point or two, but when you do, everyone who’s been watching you and supporting you from the sidelines celebrate with you. And even if you don’t, you’ll be happy to call it a day, hope for the best and be thankful that you survived the game, with a little muscle pain to remind you of how tough it is to be in THAT field.

Most importantly, if you’re lucky, THERE WILL BE HOT, SHIRTLESS MEN waiting for you in the locker room. Bright side, people, bright side.

-"Until Then, Twenty Ten"  

The Law and Economics of Lust, Love and Life