those three little words

When I was young, in the throes of those hazy days of first love, I verbally lived those three little words often. The idea of loving and being loved in return was intoxicating and that feeling of weightlessness? You really do float about in a love-induced stupor.

As I grew older and those three little words spoken in youthful fervor went the way of broken promises, the expectations increased. Rather than an innocent declaration, those three little words become weightier, attached with strings, strings that bind like a Mobius strip.

In all the relationships since that first heady rush, I’ve made a conscious decision not to use those three little words at all with any of the subsequent guys I went out with... Not even with the one I thought might have been...

Perhaps I should have.

Except that those three little words come with a sanctity that is lost in today’s vernacular of love and lust; we love and we hate as easily as a coin toss and we throw those three little words around like confetti into the wind. If I ever do say those three little words again, I would want it to stick for good… like superglue.

On the flip side, one can never say those three little words enough to family, friends, and a wee little cat.