After putting up an enormously long title, let me just cut to the chase. I am the love-depraved third wheel. And my friend is the couple. It is sad, pathetic even, when I think of how the girl who never asked for it got it. And she did not get it, she bagged the gold medal. The best trophy. The Noble prize who calls her the Nobel prize.
Those two love birds seem to be going for it, loving each other with everything they have got in them. With every last ounce of nice-ness they have plunged into what is called high school romance. It is wonderful and beautiful to watch them discover each other, numb their lips and get vertigo over one another idiosyncrasies. To minimize their faults and glorify their beauties.
They give me hope. As I struggle to grapple with the meaning of love and relationships and to understand the depth of both, they give it meaning. They have become an example of understanding, compassion and warmth. Everything I have thought that relationships aren’t. It isn’t just the lust and the prowess of the animal within which guides it all. And, sometimes, I think I do believe in love.
And like the ancients, a soft touch and warm embrace is all we need on a cold winter night. Not the heater.