I have been in love four times. in Entries of Great Significance

I have been in love four times in my life.

I have only given my body fully to four girls in my life.

That’s another term for sex, haha.

Anyway.

Four girls in almost 37 years.

Not too bad, and no, it’s not easy to do that as a guy especially with the amount of opportunities I’ve had. I have had so many chances. So many opportunities..

But I’m not going to give you me.

Not all of me.

Not unless I’m in love with you.

And I don’t fall in love often nor do I fall easy.

I’m very, very methodical in that respect, but I adore sex. It’s a wonderful thing, truly, but I’m not going to just give that gift to just anyone.

Think about it, what makes you special?

If I tell you that you’re pretty, that you’re beautiful.. I can spin words.

I can make you feel amazing, I’m that good.

That damn good.

And I’ll make you feel like you’re the only girl in the world and on this planet who is beautiful.

The poetry, the charm, the flirting.. that’s all parts of me.

But I don’t write about just anyone.. you have to impress me.

And what I mean is that you have to stand out.

Be different.

Be worth my time, worth my words, worth my heart..

You have to stand out.

Because I do.

I know I do.

I always have.

But words are free.

Words are easy.

Words are nothing but air..

I need them to breathe, but in the end, they aren’t something I can touch, caress, hold, and I long for that again.

I miss spinning words for someone.

Caressing her cheek softly.

Touching her until she’s screaming in pleasure.

Holding her gasping, haggard breaths shaking, delightfully spent body in my arms..

In my hands.

These fingers that spin words.

Spin them so pretty.

They can be magical.

Who is worth the words?

Who is worth the poetry?

Worth all of me?

If I fall in love with you, I will give you the pretty words, the poetry, and all of me, but how can I prove to you how much you mean to me?

Simple.

By not giving myself to just any girl that craves me. Not for just any girl that wants the words so pretty spun for her, and only her.

And my body.

My hands.

My fingers.

My touch.

My hard love.

No, that’s what is not free.

Words are easy.

Words are simple.

Words are free.

But I will, should I fall in love with you, I will prove to you by the fact I have not given all of me, my body, to just any girl. If I slept with a girl whose name I don’t even know after a drunken night out and then slept with you, how do I show you that you matter?

How do I prove to you that you mean everything to me?

With words?

No, those are easy. Casual. Free.

And I am none of those things.

I have only given myself four times, and each to a girl that has stolen parts of my heart until I finally showed her what she meant. How she mattered.

By only giving myself to someone I fully, deeply, and truly love.

I spent 8 years devoted to Shayla.

I’ve avoided writing about her here so far, because honestly, it’s all still too raw. It’s been over a year now, and I’m nowhere closer really to being over the betrayal.

I will never understand how someone I devoted myself wholly and completely to could while I’m in the hospital fighting to survive not even five blocks from my house she could be in our room in our bed showing herself to guys she met in a chatroom.

In my bed!

The bed I have to lay my head on every night.

That bed of fire.

Of lifelessness.

I didn’t know she cheated.

But eventually, time has a way of bringing the truth to the surface.

Time always brings the truth out.

Eventually something happens when you’re dishonest.

Something you cannot foresee.

And you are revealed fully to the world.

Of who you really are.

And what you really deep down are capable of being.

How Shayla could sit next to me on a Saturday watching football and violate our relationship by crossing lines and sending words and images of lust to a guy who was always a huge player. An admitted one. And she knew it. Told me it!

I never told her to stop talking to him, despite her showing me texts over the years of him begging her for things.. illicit images.. her.

I’m never going to be that guy.

You want him around? So be it, I’ll deal with it, because I trust you.

I trusted you with my very life!

I cannot count how many countless times girls over the years wanted me. Made advances toward me. Tried to do things with me, and I did not ever encourage it nor did I ever act upon it. Even some of the women from my past that I wanted desperately, but circumstances never allowed for anything to happen. Even those desires I quelled.

If I commit, then I fucking commit.

All in.

All or nothing.

You either get all of me, or you’ll get none of me.

It took me four years to finally commit to Shayla, and I never for one moment crossed a line or violated her trust.

And the worst part is she denied it to my face repeatedly, until I told her I had proof.

Then she came clean, and that’s when she felt awful.

Not because she did it, no, because she got caught.

And I don’t know how to trust anymore.

I was going to marry that girl.

I bought a house with that girl.

I adopted cats with that girl.

I gave my fucking heart and soul to that girl.

And that was how she saw me in the end.

That was what I was worth to her in the end.

Nothing.

She was my best friend.

I spent 8 years on her.

And I don’t know how to start over.

I don’t know if I have it in me.

I’m going to go take a shower and try to forget.

But I live in this house everyday, I live in my room everyday, I can still see all of those images I found .. and she gave and did things for them she wouldn’t even do for me.

How do you handle that?

How do you find yourself again?

She used to be in my head the love of my life, but I realize now she’s not and she wasn’t.

The love of my life, well, that’s a story for another day.

Just another sad story.

I’m great with those.