Spying On Lovers
-from the journal-
4-28-24
A woman just walked into the coffee shop and brought out some sort of fancy looking frappe with whipped cream atop. She hopped in the passenger seat. I assumed she bought one for her husband and one for herself. Or maybe he was just being a kind, sacrificial husband and making an inconvenient jo run before the Sunday hustle. Either way, I inwardly envied the simplicity. How does love come so seemingly easy? There was just something about the woman, short hair, crocs, T-shirt, passenger side door waiting, that made it look so effortless. I glanced up and another car took their spot as the woman and her frothy coffees and assumed husband or lover drove away. This time, it was a younger couple.
I caught them mid embrace, having a moment as lovers do, and I saw the young man self consciously glance my way. To his fortune, my sunglasses and this chicken scratch journal guised my polite observance of them. He kissed her temple. I couldn’t see her face; only her head full of thick, beautiful, raven black curls. They held each other in between my parked SUV and their sedan. Maybe they hadn’t seen each other in a while. Maybe they were new lovers and exploring the honeymoon phase and its butterfly vomiting euphoria and fresh Dopamine high. Or maybe, they were just living and existing in love and enjoying each other. They untangled from their embrace and walked to the coffee shop entrance. Her face was as radiant and beautiful as her black curls. Her smile had a really authentic glow and content looking joy.
I saw a book in her hand. Exploring the Presence of God. They must be heading to corporate worship soon. Or maybe she was in a small group and catching up on her homework before the Sunday school bells ring. Or maybe, she just sought to grow closer to God, and this book brought beauty and wonder to her life. Meanwhile, I sit here, more couples passing by; some church ready and others’ baggy T-shirts screaming they are perhaps taking a truer sabbath (which technically was yesterday, but hey, welcome to western, evangelical culture) than the hustling, corporate church goers. Whatever the case, they all make love look easy and simple.
I’ve wrestled a massive low and episodes of depression over my roster of much failure in that arena. It can feel like the heart is something for rent; something as disposable as an old razor when it’s done the job and discarded.
And maybe that’s the story of all the lovers who roam in and out of the coffee shop too. Maybe one or the other is a liar, a cheater, an addict, or just emotionally unavailable. Maybe one or the other just learned to tolerate it because they are convinced and mind numbed to believe being in pain with someone is better than without. Maybe they turned 28 or 29 or 30 and felt they missed the societal memo that screams,
“You must be wedded and bedded and procreating before age 33.”
Maybe they looked good enough on paper and checked the checkboxes, even though marrying for logic and the mind’s grandest, idealized, “Build your own” preference for a human being is more likely a sign & symptom for a divorce paper.
Maybe they’ve gone through hard times. Maybe they married a societal lie. Maybe they live a beautiful facade and feel isolated and unloved on the inside. Maybe it’s all fun and games.
Or maybe, they’re just a “beautifully mysterious complication”, broken, fucked up, riding through the ebb & flow and strangeness of love & life. Maybe they’re still figuring it out too. Maybe the war of our hearts are just fought in different ways.