My favorite love story (repost)
“Grandma,” little Laurie said, scrambling onto her grandmother’s lap in the rocking chair, "tell me how you and grandpa met. Please.”
“I’d love to, darling. Let’s see,” she closed her eyes, rocking gently and holding little Laurie.
“Well, I was working in an office back then, and one day one of my co-workers said that there was some gorgeous guy down in this place called Sweet Imports. You should see him, she said. Drop dead gorgeous, said another.”
“What did you do, Grandma?”
“Well, the next day, I went there. It was a kind of café.”
“What’s a café, Grandma?”
“It’s a place where you can buy foods like sandwiches and salads, muffins and cakes and things like that. And coffee, of course. Café means coffee in French.”
“Do you speak French, Grandma?”
“Yes, darling,” she laughed.
“What happened next, Grandma?”
“Well, as soon as I opened the door, it was as if no one else were there but Grandpa and me. He looked at me and we smiled at each other as if we’d been waiting for that moment all our lives.”
“Did you say hello?”
“No sweetheart; actually, I just bought a muffin.”
“Then what happened?”
“Well, I left and my heart was pounding.”
“Why, did you run from the coffee?”
“No, sweetheart, I didn’t run from the café.” She looked into little Laurie’s face. “Think about this: when you get really excited or happy about something, does your heart seem to beat a little faster?"
Little Laurie scrunched her face and thought. Then it lit up with understanding. “Yes, Grandma! I get it. It’s like when we’re going on a trip or coming to your house, or like when we got the new puppy!” Then she frowned. “But I jump up and down a lot too, Grandma.”
Grandma laughed as did you from the other room. “Well, I was jumping up and down on the inside, honey,” she smiled, hugging little Laurie close to her. She leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes, smiling at the memory she was sharing.
Although you were in the next room, the warm timbre of her voice caressed your skin, enveloping you in the memory, touching your heart. You closed your eyes, and remembered…
You had looked up and though you didn’t know, her knees quivered. You saw a familiar face though you had never seen her before and felt your heart leap. She looked into your eyes, big and brown, framed by long thick lashes, and smiled. You looked into her eyes and returned the smile, shy and sincere. Your face, open and innocent.
You didn’t speak. She walked to the back of the line and watched you work. Another took her order. She paid and left. You watched her from beneath those lovely, longed for lashes until only the echo of her heels remained.
Later that same day, she returned. The bell above the door tingled. You felt her before the door opened. Your skin felt like electricity ran through your veins, alive with her gaze upon it. You looked up, your eyes met; she smiled, not as innocent as you, a little nervous, a little wary, already in love. You smiled and your heart was in your eyes.
“May I help you?” you asked with a lovely accent she could not place.
“Um, a strawberry, yogurt shake, please.”
“Right away,” you replied.
She watched your every movement. You felt her gaze burning your skin. You flushed. Your hand trembled ever so slightly when you handed her the shake.
“Two-fifty. You can pay the cashier.”
You shared another smile. She left.
For a week, no day was complete unless she came in twice a day: muffin in the morning, shake at noon. Finally, you decided five minutes was not enough. You wanted to know this woman. The woman behind the smile.
“I would like to see you,” you said Thursday afternoon.
“I see you every day,” she replied, surprised, scared, excited. Scared.
“No, you misunderstand. I am working. I would like to sit. Talk. You know? Know you better.” You were nervous now. Had you misinterpreted her eyes, her smile? Your English wasn’t very good, but you had thought some things needed no translation.
“We’ll see,” she said, smiling and almost running from the store.
The next day, she came in and smiled but ran out without saying a word. The weekend was long. You played videogames with your brother and watched the clock, counting the minutes until you could go to work on Monday. You even cleaned the bathroom – shared by four men who didn’t like to clean - to make the time go more quickly. Sunday afternoon you went to a flea market and bought a pocketbook handmade in Turkey, your home.
Sunday night you drank an entire bottle of vodka and chain smoked two packs of cigarettes to calm your nerves. Your friends laughed at your drunken tears but also tried to boost your courage.
Monday morning finally arrived and when she came in you said, “Don’t go. I have something for you.” You came from behind the counter and handed her the pocketbook.
“Oh my! Thank you so much!” She hugged you and you almost fainted. Your knees quivered. “What time do you finish work?” she asked.
“Well, if you don’t mind waiting until 5:00, would you like to have dinner tonight?”
Silence. Did you understand correctly? Did she just invite you to dinner?
“Yes” you spluttered, afraid she’d take it back. Afraid.
She smiled. “Good. I’ll meet you by the fountain at 5:00 o’clock.”
“5:00 o’clock,” you repeated.
She took you to a health food restaurant. The food was horrible. No meat and you didn’t recognize anything on your plate. Then, you didn’t have enough money to pay so she had to pay. You gave her every penny in your pocket except what you needed for the subway. You thought, what an idiot, she’ll never go out with me again. Then, she took your hand as you walked to the train station and your heart soared at the same moment that you began to tremble and then worry about your sweaty hands.
That was Monday. Every day that week she came in, smiled, bought her muffin or shake and left. But the smiles were a little brighter. The eyes spoke a little more clearly. No translation necessary. All of a sudden it was Friday.
“Would you like to spend the day with me tomorrow?” you asked. “We could walk around the city and then I will take you to nice restaurant for dinner?”
“That would be lovely. What time would you like to meet?”
“Noon? By the fountain?”
It’s Saturday and you are banging your head on the subway door. You have been sitting in the middle of no where for an hour. No moving. They make announcements but you don’t understand. You just think, she will leave. She will think I’m not coming and she will leave. She will hate me. First, I couldn’t buy dinner, now this. Stupid, stupid, stupid. And you bang your head to the rhythm of your thoughts.
One-fifteen. You are running through the station. You take the steps two at a time. You are sweating, praying, panting. You can’t breathe, but you run. Hoping. You run through the lobby and push through the revolving doors and stop. You see her by the fountain, reading a book. She looks up, smiles and waves. In that moment you think, that is the woman I am going to marry. And you do.
“Grandma, where are you going?”
“To give Grandpa a kiss.”
Laurie giggled. “Why Grandma?
“Every time I tell that story, I remember how much I love him.”
“And I you,” you say coming through the doorway and pulling her into your arms.
“Ooooo! Grandpa, Grandma! Mommy! Grandma and Grandpa are smooching again!”
If It’s Love, You’ll Know
Before you and I started talking, I hadn't noticed you much.
Sure, I knew your name, and I could describe your appearance if someone asked me to,
but you weren't someone who was in my thoughts much at all.
It wasn't love at first sight,
at least not physically.
But the moment you opened up, and I got to see the real you,
the one that you hide from others because you've been hurt before,
because you're scared to be you in such a cruel world,
I knew it was love.
I had fallen in love with your heart,
It was only then that I fell in love with your caring eyes,
your warm smile,
the way your hair would get in your face, and you'd flip it back.
I had never noticed how you hid your body before either,
I didn't notice that the sweatshirt you wore everyday wasn't some sentimental thing,
that it was your protection.
I didn't notice that you were hurt so bad that you constantly found ways to hide yourself,
until you opened up to me.
So no, I don't believe in love at first sight in the traditional way,
but I do think that the moment you really see a person,
for their heart and soul,
you'll know right away
if it's love.
the L word
short answer is no, but ive never been one to shut up so ima tell you exactly why its a no. love is more than a moment, more than an experience and so much more than a word. love is a whole ass journey that flashes so many feelings into our brains, feelings to big for words. that's why we feel as if we could die for the other person that we love, because of how selfish we are we would never give up our chance to live for anyone else, but from loving another we have been enraveled into so many emotions regarding love that we put aside our selfish needs and wants and are willing to give up everything for another. my point to all this is that love cant be enveloped into a short glance, it must grow over time and trust. so no, love at first sight ridiculous of a concept because it is quite to big of a sensation.
Love at First Sight? Only with Babies and Donuts
The idea that love at first sight can happen lacks perspective. What kind of love are we talking about? Some loves are absolutely instantaneous. Finding out you're going to be a parent creates an immediate love for that new little life. Being largely visual creatures, that love is further cemented the second we see our newborn child. I also feel that my love for donuts is instantaneous. Show me a chocolate donut with sprinkles, and I am head over heels besotted.
Now, if you're talking about romantic love, I think love at first sight is the excrement of Hallmark Movies. In fact, I think the notion of love at first sight often begets doomed relationships.
Hoping to experience love at first sight is problematic because having an attractive appearance is a poor barometer of character, personality, and compatibility with someone. For example, a guy may be hung like a blue whale, have the body of a god, but is gifted with the intelligence of a sea cucumber. Also, appearance alone will not reveal a person's emotional or psychological stability. For example, A nicely dressed, charming, and handsome gent may seem nice at first, but his appearance and mannerisms will not reveal that the guy has a chest freezer in his garage stuffed with severed heads.
The powerful biochemical reaction created when someone sees a person they perceive as attractive is also confused for love at first sight. For example, in the case of a lady, seeing an attractive person may result in her becoming a bit moist in the knickers. For gents, seeing an attractive person may trigger a physiological response that appears as if the fellow has spontaneously sprouted a package of Rolos in the front of his pants. These physiological responses to attraction shouldn't be translated as love. It is an evolutionary adaptation that insures the continuation of the species by instilling both male and female with a need for sex and the desire to copulate with an aesthetically pleasing partner. In layman's terms, they're horny.
The belief in romantic love at first sight can also doom a relationship that likely wouldn't have happened if the couple got to truly know each other.
Please consider the following example of Sara and Tony and their fall into the love at first sight delusion.
Sara meets Tony at the grocery store while shopping for organic, ethically sourced, vegan, grown in worm abuse free soil, carrots that are harvested with biodegradable tools by the last hippie commune.. Sara sees Tony groping the honeydew in the produce section and immediately finds herself in need of fresh panties. Glancing up, Tony notices how Sara's yoga pants accentuate all of his favorite parts and little Tony salutes its approval. So, after a brief introduction by the celery they agree to meet for coffee.
The coffee date goes well. Tony and Sara have "Sooooo much in common!" He likes air. She likes air too. He likes YouTube videos of puppies. Guess what! She likes puppy videos too! It's like fate led them both to that grocery store's produce section. It wasn't the fact that as human beings Tony and Sara need to eat to survive and the grocery store where they met just happens to sell food. It also wasn't the fact that the grocery store happens to be the nearest store to where both Tony and Sara live. Nope. If you asked Tony and Sara they'd tell you it is fate and love at first sight that brought them together.
At the end of the second date, Tony subtly lets it be known that wants to take Sara to his place, peel off her yoga pants with his teeth, and fuck her until their bed rocking shows up as a small seismic event on a nearby Richter Scale. Guess what? She wants this too! I know, right! So the relationship is off to a great start.
After few more dates and small seismic events, Sara takes Tony to meet her family. Well, things go well until Sara notices that Tony is looking at her sister, Ashley with the same look he had right before they ruined his sheets. Glancing down, Sara notices that little Tony is at attention as big Tony sits raptly listening to her sister talk about how she found out which "Friends" character she is by taking an online survey and she's happy to be Rachel and all, but she doesn't like Ross because he puts off a creepy, cartoon giraffe vibe. Surprisingly, Sara manages to keep her cool until after dinner and the car ride home.
During the drive home, Sara confronts Tony about him eye fucking her sister, Ashley. To Tony's credit, he admits he found Sara's sister attractive. To his discredit, he asks Sara if she and Ashley ever thought about a threesome because he'd like to be the salami in that sister sandwich. And with that Sara's berates herself mumbling, "I can't believe I fucked him." Meanwhile Tony, being a little more optimistic thinks, "I wonder if its too soon to ask Sara for Ashley's number?"
So, Sara and Tony fell into the love at first sight trap. A wiser Tony and Sara would have recognized their feelings. In truth, what Tony and Sara felt was the reciprocal desire to fuck the other person until they both walk funny. This is all well and good, but it may not be the best foundation to build a relationship on.
All joking aside, real love is hard. Taking two individuals with their own unique perspectives, flaws and quirks and throwing them together is the ultimate sink or swim scenario. The couple aren't going to agree all the time and there will be times they don't like each other much. You also throw each other's families (or in my case genetic train wreck) into the mix. Inevitably, the two people will have to decide the fate of the relationship. In fact, this is likely going to happen more than once.
A couple can quit, walk away, and take care of the flotsam and jetsam of the relationship through lawyers later. This can be the best case scenario especially if there is abuse, addiction, or infidelity involved. Sadly, some things can't be fixed.
The other option is one of the hardest things a human can do. To save a relationship, both parties must set aside the preconceived notions, old resentments, insecurities and mistakes the other person made. Then standing there unencumbered of all the relationship bullshit we pile on ourselves, look at the other person. The questions that come to mind are going to be hard to answer. You will ask if you can imagine existing without the other person and how that feels. You will get honest and realize that a lot of what irritates you about the other person is really them being human and you being a jerk about it. You will question your role in the situation and realize that you are part of the problem. You will take an inventory of how you've changed each other and if those changes feel good and have the changes allowed you to be a better person not just for your partner. but also for yourself. Finally, you will ask yourself if this is the person you want at your bedside when your life's light flickers. The answers are intimate, individual, and sometimes not what you are hoping they'd be. However, that is love. It's not instantaneous, it isn't always candlelight and rose petal trails to the bedroom, and you will get angry sometimes. Real love is hard, frightening, heartbreaking, but always worthwhile work. Love at first sight is just lazy and things built with minimal effort are doomed to break.
Love, at first sighting
You know love the second you see it.
Love at first sight has been pitifully romanticized. Shrouded.
Torn from the misty minded cloak of nonsense it remains. Nevertheless.
Love at first sight is a thing, acknowledged, simple and clear. Like a ghost.
Every time you spot it, you know it for what it is: "Oh, a phantom".
Is love at first sight possible? challenge @Raynstar
Not for Me
If "love at first sight" was real, I would've been in love thousands of times. I can fall into "like" very easily. I can see the beauty of a smile, a laugh and want to wrap myself around that beauty for awhile. But it never seems to withstand that test of time people talk about.
And I don't claim to know much.
I just know where I've been and how I got there and "Love" in all its many faces really showed me my own flawed humanity.
I have fallen for many pretty faces and I have come to realize it was never love. And those faces still remained beautiful even as they broke my heart.
I will admit I wanted to believe that "love at first sight" was real, because I have heard many a story about such a love. I think that if it is real, it is not real for me.
Now, I look to a person's hands and what they do with them. Do they build others up? Give as good as they get? Do they hold onto you when you need steadiness in your shaky world?
I do not look at just the sight of a person, I look at the action of that person as well. To me, that is more insightful then any first sight I "think" is love.
Romantically, I've always prided myself on never having been on a date. (My husband has tried to bend me to this seemingly benevolent convention, yet for myself, there is nothing more unnatural, and I can't help but reject the idea mentally.) I'd like to think that I do not size people up, like at an audition, as worthy or not worthy of Love. I am all for Living-- as a continuity of work and play and togetherness-- not as a time stamp on a ticket, but for always and forever.
I'd like to live Love at first, and last sight.
It would be best to admit upfront that I am skeptical of the thing itself. Love. Like calendars, rather than days, I believe in commitment and effort. Love is the work of Humanity. Coming from this perspective, I have the underlying understanding that we could love anybody-- that is if willing to put into action the profession of Faith that we are called to Love one another-- regardless.
It naturally follows: Love, f*ck, the limit. I am extremist in thinking.
It is a matter of logical consequence. Not implication. My personal history reinforced for me this perhaps unusual system of perceiving. Whatever crushes I had, were broken by my first sexual experiences. I was there. In my eyes, as a convenience. Not selection, not preference. This was a critical missing piece, childish, inconsistent to higher ideal. It took many years for me to recognize that I was the exception in societal conception of Loving. That "freak of nature."
Love, as admiration, was in fact the foundational sentiment then-- not use, or abuse-- as might be implied above. But I refused to acknowledge or accept it at the time, because of that applied filter of "differentiation." That expectation. If there was lack of emotion, it was my own cold wall of detachment, and I refused to see things for what they were-- beyond nametag of who he was or who I am.
This was decades ago. I apologize for the vagueness.
What I am trying to suggest is that Love, more often than not, is missed at first sight. At second and third even. We are blind as it were, in the mirror twin sense of the word: Prejudiced, after all. We see what we want to, and a considerable part of that is our own often faulty construct. We remain our own obstacle to Love. As individuals. As pairs, or families. As society. It is difficult to get past things that we believe should fall into place to make up a concept.
What is more fragmented and deconstructed throughout lifetime than the idea of Love? How is it that it seems to change, in definition, as our time goes on? and does it really? I don't think it does, as much as our relationship to it.
Somethings, some people, are easy to love; some are not. We know this. I suppose that what I would hope and expect, of myself now, is to look upon all the world, with Love.
That is a Love at first sight that one can believe in and practice with conviction.