Alright, so… Three loves. Three and only three, got it? Well, maybe four, if I count myself, but I suppose I wouldn’t be standing here, talking to you, about to do this, if that were true.
Three tragic, Shakespearean loves.
Fairy-tale loves. The Grimm originals, though, not the bowdlerized versions fed to us girls when we’re little.
Wait, scratch all that. Thinking about it now, with us four so far gone on bloom, these loves, they were Dionysian. Wild and hungry.
So, three heart-rending, loins-afire, down-on-your-knees, blood-under-your-fingernails loves.
An honest love. A brotherly love. A bewitching, illogical, life-affirming/destroying love.
The first, Shaun, I met while working at Starbucks. I was his manager. Working the night shift, we’d pop petals and fuck in the storage closet, blooming like hyacinths. We moved in together. We adopted a French bulldog. A boring, predictable, stable, and wonderful love. He introduced me to my…