January 28, 2014

Put The Don't Cry Single In

Sixteen years old and you are madly, wildly, uncontrollably in love. In love like no one at any other time has ever been in love before. All you can do is to think about and dream about and think about, did I already say that, well I’ll say it again— all you can do is to think about this girl. For the first time, there is a girl who says she loves you too. And while neither of you have any idea what this could possibly mean, you both know exactly what it means. It means you are IN love and you love THAT too.

And with this new, fresh, never-been-expereinced before love there is touching and kissing and deep stares into soulful eyes. There is hand holding and hugging and rubbing and other new frontiers that only a love so pure and profound and unique could unlock. Nobody else could possibly feel this deeply enamored and obsessed with another human being. You are adults now and your love is proof. These are not emotions for children. What child could handle a love like this?

It is heavy and volatile and hard to handle. Sometimes it blows up and leaves you painfully scarred and damaged and hurt and confused, but this is okay, because this love is so fecund that you know that all you have to do is wait it out and you will be in love again, usually more so than before.

This love will make you cry— alone or in groups. Sober or drunk. It makes you yearn and reach out and reach in. It makes you share and expose and it leaves you pleasantly vulnerable. It helps you build intricate shells and masks and invisible defenses. Teaches you to break them down and lay naked, waiting to be drenched once more.

Bruises tender and the low-moan-ache— in the car just the boys (men) Talking bases, and fingers, and conquest, to cover up the pain. How far did you get? After the braggadocio and bravado subside.  In the darkness of the waning machismo. There is a silence.  Each of you sits alone with the memory of this new found love.

Ari, put the Don’t Cry single in.  Four boys (men) driving to Tahoe listen in silence. You miss her already.

It’s funny how a song can not only take you back in time— allowing you to relive moments you felt had faded or worse vanished, but sometimes if the right song is matched with the right period in a life, a person can be made to regress emotionally and possibly feel the same emotions that one worked through, albeit not gracefully, the first time. And no other song, when I was in this state of fluctuating ecstasy and pain, could mirror my emotions, no other song could touch and soothe every raw nerve like this one:

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