Love is a Many Splendored Thing

It was easy to fall in love. Really easy.

We've all been to a wedding or two...all heard the "Love is patient, love is kind" reading by someone in pink taffeta and dyed-to-match shoes.

Well I've got news for you. Love is all those things - and a pant load more.

Love is patient, love is kind. And love is exhilarating and fun and sometimes a little fattening.

Love curls your toes and gives you the most blissful, dreamy sleep.

Love quickens your step and your smile.

Love puts all of your phone numbers into his cell phone so he can call to say he loves you even when he only has a minute. And lets you change the ring tone to a cheesy Abba song and puts your picture as his wallpaper.

Love remembers your friends' names, and your friends' children's names. And your co-workers' names. Even the ones you don't like. (Lars by contrast couldn't remember his own co-workers' names - so could never introduce me...)

Love goes to the beach with you when he'd rather watch a double header.

Love learns to drink microbrewed beer and chardonnay because you don't like Bud in a can.

Love comes to your son's little league game and doesn't make his presence known so as to not torque up your maniac ex-husband's neurosis or cause your children any undue angst. But anonymously cheers his head off anyway.

Love fills up your gas tank and gets your car washed while you are getting your toes done before you leave him alone all weekend to go to Girls Weekend.

Love walks into a cocktail party/crowded restaurant/football stadium and turns to you and whispers "How does it feel to be the prettiest girl here?"

Love runs out and buys Midol and a heating pad and a bottle of chardonnay and watches You've Got Mail for the 100th time on a Saturday night because you have cramps and a zit that makes you look like a hag and you don't feel up to meeting his friends for a drink.

Love drives into town to meet you, during the NBA playoffs, only to turn around and drive you home so you don't have to ride the train on a cold, rainy night. And brings you a treat.

Love smiles politely and makes relevant, inoffensive replies when your mother is on a loud, relentless tear about politics again.

Love comes to the doctors and sits reading back issues of Your Prostate and You and wringing his hands until he knows you have a clean bill of health.

Love drives lots of inconvenient miles out of his way at $4 a gallon to get you to an interview or the Chairman's picnic or a funeral or some other thing for which he has no obligation, all so you don't have to deal with your tendency to get horribly lost in strange places when you're a little nervous to begin with and don't need to show up with pit stains and smeary mascara from crying in frustration.

Love holds your hand, stands behind you, puts himself in harm's way -without being asked and for any reason, whether you caused it with your own foolishness or not. A threat to you is a threat to him. Real or imagined.

Yes, love is hard to find but easy to fall into. Which makes climbing back out such a long, slow difficult task that has you turning around and rethinking the decision over and over.