I wish you love

I have been single for almost 5 years now. But during that time, I have been in love many times, perhaps too many times to count.

Since I’m still single, it would seem that none of these loves ended “happily ever after”, and I guess that’s true, if your idea of “happily ever after” is to settle down and get married, have a white picket fence and 2.5 kids. But I’m happy. And I think most of them are happy. So who’s to say we didn’t live happily ever after?

Some of these loves ended because one of us moved to a different city or a different country. And one of the reasons I decided to move to Seattle permanently and stop vagabonding around was to be able to let something develop, instead of always getting up half-way through the movie, so to speak. But I don’t regret the ones that ended…

Just because we’re not together anymore, doesn’t mean we don’t still love each other.

But plenty of them ended because the other person didn’t want to be with me. Because they went back to an ex, or because they found someone else more mature than me who was ready to commit. Did it hurt? You bet it did. But I’ve had my heart broken many times. It’s an occupational hazard, a mild hangover compared to the dizzying, ecstatic high of being in love. And since I have high self-esteem and I love myself, rejection doesn’t destroy me the way it used to when I was younger. After all,

Just because YOU don’t love me, doesn’t mean I’m not lovable.

Some of them I don’t know why they ended, because the person just gradually faded out of my life without a clear reason or even a goodbye really, and those are the ones that hurt the most. And some of them ended because the passion faded away and we realized we weren’t compatible. And that’s ok, too…

Just because our love is gone now, doesn’t mean it wasn’t real while it lasted.

And I think that’s what bothers so many people about Valentine’s Day: this idea that the only REAL love is being in a committed, permanent, monogamous relationship, and that if you haven’t found it yet you’re failing at life.

But I think that’s complete nonsense.

I think love is everywhere.

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I think you can love someone you know you’re not going to spend the rest of your life with. That’s what my song Weekend Girlfriend is about, as much as people like to laugh at the chorus because they think it’s about casual sex (not that there’s anything wrong with that), it’s really a love song about a girl I was completely smitten with who was about to leave the country. (We never even had sex, actually, but I wrote three songs about her.)

I think love is a gift that should be given freely, not a cage to try to put someone in.

I think you can love someone you’ve just met, and even someone you’ve never met.

I think you can love every person you pass on the sidewalk every day, if only for a moment to look into their eyes and recognize your shared humanity and know that we’re all in this together.

I think you can love yourself and you can flood your own brain with the same happy chemicals that you get from another person when you just recognize the overwhelming power of the love that permeates the entire universe, that drives everything in this great quest for life, for connection, for beauty, and for love.

It’s said that “A man who would have friends must show himself friendly”, and I think that’s the secret to attracting more love into your life: be more loving. Believe in love, feel love, BE love. When you realize that love is everywhere, you stop having a scarcity mindset about it, and you can give it freely out of the abundance in your heart. And then you automatically start attracting wonderful people into your life, as if by magic.

In Mexico and other Spanish-speaking countries, Valentine’s Day is called Día de Amor y Amistad – Day of Love and Friendship, and I like how that downplays the exclusively romantic connotations it seems to have here in the U.S.

So, today I wish you love and friendship, and that your heart will be open to love in all of its forms.

I love you.

You are loved.

Don’t ever forget that.

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