When we first met, I wasn’t so sure.Your moods were fickle. At times you were unnecessarily violent, other times so placid and serene. I felt tentative about getting involved, but there was just something about you I couldn’t resist. We would have so much fun together. You were—and still are—the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. You make me laugh and you’ve been there for me through good times and bad. But pardon me for saying it, you can also be the biggest bitch I’ve ever met.
Your smell, your touch, the way you sound. It’s all just so… intoxicating. Even after all these years, I’m more in love with you than ever. I’m drunk with it. The love changes as time goes on. What used to be a frantic whirlwind is now a little more measured. The passion changed, too. Everything was difficult at first, moving faster and more powerfully than I was comfortable with. Then we got to know each other, however, and the nerves eased. We began to mesh more and more and we began to dance, like really dance. Every now and then in those early years, I’d get a glimpse of what we could be. A fleeting feeling, smooth and graceful, like velvet on my skin. A whisper in my ear, your breath on my throat, just enough to leave me wanting more. And although sometimes I wish I could, I just can’t get myself to stop wanting to be with you. I love you, but damn, you hurt me sometimes.
It’s frustrating at times, but I suppose all worthwhile relationships are. When we first met, I was clumsy and awkward. I tried so hard to impress, not knowing exactly when to do what or what you wanted. You were so unsympathetic to my struggles, breaking my bones and bloodying my skin, laughing maniacally with the wind in your hair and storm clouds in your eyes. Still now, even on your calmest days, there’s an undercurrent of danger lurking just beneath the surface. Sometimes I wonder if you even love me at all. I travel the world looking for you, emptying my bank account for just a few moments in your company. It often seems as though you don’t care at all, but other times I feel like I’m the only one in the world for you. I’ve flown across the globe only to have you not show up to meet me. I sit and wait patiently, hoping with all my heart you’ll show up and grace me with your presence. Then, just a few days after I leave, you show up for someone else in the same place. It’s heartbreaking. You’ve ruined my life and made it incredible at the same time. You’re in my head and you’re under my skin, and oh, how I wish it wasn’t so—but I’m so glad it is.
Every now and then you come to me, and there is nothing else I love more. Your presence is in the air, dancing in the wind. Even if I haven’t known in advance you were going to come, I can smell you nearby. I can hear you in the distance and I hope with all my heart that you’re there for me. I will drop everything for you. I will leave work, friends, and family to meet you. Of course, there will always be others that you’re involved with. I know that. It’s just part of you. I can deal with it; the jealousy, that feeling that someone else is taking what ought to be mine. I can even deal with those violent outbursts, the ones when you’re so mad I can’t even see how I could love you so much in the first place. You don’t know your own strength, do you? You’re able to move the world when you’re angry, and it’s frightening. But when we can ride that anger together, there’s nothing else on earth quite like it. That’s just part and parcel of what makes you so special. It’s what makes those days when I get you all to myself so special. Those days when you’re barefoot in a summer dress, with your gentle, tinkling laughter sending ripples through the still summer air. How I love those days. How I love all the days.
I know you’ll never change. As much as I think I want you to change sometimes, Ocean, I love you for you. Happy Valentine’s Day, you perfect, beautiful bitch.