I'm in love with Laura Saad. And, reading her blog, is it really difficult for anyone to see why? But after six months of seeing each other, my degree of infatuation hasn't eased, it hasn't waned, it hasn't even plateaued. I remain still in the blissful state in which the very sight of Laura sends "happy juices" flowing all through my mind. And every day this feeling increases.
Love is not a feeling; it is a choice. Infatuation renders the choice easier to make... in some ways, infatuation makes the choice (to love) far less heroic than it otherwise would be.
Not that I complain. My last six months have not been easy, but the pains have been substantially offset by instinct and affection tugging on all of my paternal heartstrings. I am warned, both by friends and by knowledge, that the "easy days" do not last even for the healthiest of couples. And yet I feel that heeding these warnings too much would disallow me from savoring this slice of heaven. No!
In the private cocoon bordered by couch cushions and a blanket, there is a pervasive sense shared by Laura and me that our finding each other is both inexplicable and inevitable, and is by itself proof of God's existence and goodness. Each of us represents the fulfillment the other has sought since the lonely and cruel days of elementary school. And we fulfill it so well.
This all leaves me in a curious position vis-a-vis the "infatuation stage". I am both mentally preparing for its exit and each day overjoyed at its abiding presence. I know that my cautioning friends are not trying to be wet blankets... they only do not wish me to be dragged down too far by disappointment, or to confuse infatuation with "the real thing". I understand. And if they are right and automatic affection becomes someday rare, I will not be sad. But all the same, I cannot let go of the private joy in the possibility that my 6-month-and-counting infatuation trip may prove them wrong.
All I know is that many would die for what I now have, and I am among the luckiest people on the planet.