Thoughts of a Frosty Friday

Love is easily found in food. Easily lost, when it reaches your gastric juice bag. Easily salvaged, with a good burp.

We all have the potential to fall in love a thousand times in our lives.

It's easy.

The first thing I ever loved was a little pup I used to feed biscuits to, each day on my way to play school. He would follow me every morning. He would make me happy because he would remind me of the girl who had a lamb follow her to school.

The last person I will love will be someone I haven't even met yet, probably.

They all count.

But there are certain people you love who do something else; they define how you classify what love is supposed to feel like. These are some of the most important people in your life, and you'll meet maybe four or five of these people over the span of eighty years.

But there is still one more tier to all this; there is always one person you love who becomes that definition. It usually happens retrospectively, but it happens eventually. This is the person who unknowingly sets the template for what you will always love about other people, even if some of these lovable qualities are self-destructive and unreasonable. The person who defines your understanding of love is not inherently different than anyone else, and they're often just the person you happen to meet the first time you really, really, want to love someone.

But that person still wins.

They win and you lose. Because for the rest of your life, they will control how you feel about everyone else.