Love is probably the most abused, overused word whether you “mean” it or not. Anyone I know from South Dakota ends a phone call with “Love You, Bye!” That is pretty genuine, trust me. But the “I love my phone,” “I love your hair!” All those. But let’s not split hairs.
My handy daily mediation book jumped out at me again today.
“Where does all the fake love come from? Is it them or is it me?” – Mel K.
The meditation goes on to state the more precious something is, the more fakes are created around it. That’s a big statement. And I think it’s true. Over 25 years ago, when I was thrust into the dating world after getting married at 18 and getting divorced at 30, it was certainly true. A lot of men would be dishonest about the fact they were married. Some were quite crafty about it. Meet you for lunch, not drinks or dinner. Meet/see you during the week, but never on the weekend. It didn’t take long to figure it out.
Also, at the end of the 80s, the AIDS crisis reared it’s ugly head and had every single person worried. Again, if people weren’t honest about their marriage status, they probably wouldn’t be honest with their sexual history. It was crazy out there. Terrible. I became good at staying home. Authentic love is the goal. Inauthentic love is so hollow. Some is plain deception: If you love me, you will lie for me, don’t tell Mom, don’t tell Dad, you will cheat for me, you will call me in sick at work so I can sleep, and no, don’t even think about calling me out on my behavior. You have no right to do that.
Hey, pal. Yes I do. If you love me, you will be honest and truthful, you will not expect me to compromise my morals, you will respect my feelings, you will understand I, too, have a life and obligations. If you don’t honor that, you certainly don’t love me.
There, as a much wiser older lady, I can finally say that. I tried to wriggle out of letting the Babe tell me he loved me. I was afraid. Afraid of lies, loss, and relationships. I said, “No, you can’t. It’s too early.” But he said he knew he did. And set to convince me of that fact. Glad he didn’t give up easily. Real, true loving is hard. It’s almost more attractive to accept the cheap knock offs.
Authentic love is trusting, fake is not. It dares to try, fake does not. It dares to take a risk by being expressed, fake stays silent. We need to trust they’ll understand, they’ll believe us, and they’ll trust. The problem isn’t them; it’s us! It was hard for me to learn to trust. Thank goodness, the Babe was patient.
I had a head full of phony ideas about love. I grew up hearing Mom’s Dean Martin LP’s on the Hi-Fi. “Everybody Loves Somebody Sometime.” Andy Williams crooning, “Love Story.” Englebert Humperdink singing “A Man Without Love.” I had stupid ideas everytime you disagreed, you’d get flowers. That I got from TV. I never heard my parents disagree, if they did, they did it when we were gone or asleep. I thought if you fought, it ended. If Mom got angry with someone, they were cut out of her life. Silent treatment. With the Babe, I’ve learned that important tool of life, to listen to someone else’s side of the story, and to adjust my thinking should I need to be less rigid. It does happen.
Trust is a very hard thing to earn and to learn. I’m proud people trust me with their private thoughts, and I’ve been told I’m a good friend. That’s important to me. I’ve earned trust. I’ve also learned to give the gift of trust to those who deserve it. Those who don’t can keep walking.
Maybe I’ll write a book filled with all the lines I’ve heard over the years. That could be hilarious! Someday. For today, I’m going to design the program for our event Sunday, and work on the Post website. It needs some stuff updated soon as our newsletter comes out. It’s going to be a great weekend. I hope yours is too. Be safe out there, and we will see you tomorrow!
Kathy Raabe 