He loved Jadie. That was his problem and his solution. There was desire, more than he had ever felt, but it was complicated. He needed and wanted to love her in so many ways. This love of his beyond any romance, and deeper than any friendship. It was profound beyond the conventional view of the world. At times it was profound, and at times it was confusing. There were moments of passion, and there were moments complete peace. It was agonizing, and exhilirating, sometimes simultaneously. She made him feel. She made him feel everything across the sprectrum of emotions, he knew this was being alive and he loved her for it. Even when she hurt him he loved her. The greeks had many words for love and understood it to have many names. Eros, Pathos, Philia, Ludus, Agape, Pragma, and Philautia. Eros was the passionate side of love. Fiery, irrational, and uncontrollable. The love that would possess and drive you mad. Where do you think the phrase falling madly in love comes from? Philia was the love of a deep friendship. This side of love was loyal, sacraficing, and sharing. This love required a deep connection and understanding for the other person. Ludus is playful and affectionate. Frivolous, fun, and it loves to tease and play. Then there is Agape the selfless love. The love that inspire charity. It is a universal love of everything. Pragma is the mature side of love. Usually developed over long periods of time, it is patient, understanding and tolerant. The last type of love Philautia is the love of ones self. This self compassion enhanced our capacity for other types of love. What he felt definitely spanned each of the areas. Yes, there was definitly uncontrollable fires burning. Yes, tt was undeniable there was a deep connection. Playful and teasing? Yes. Selfless? Selflessness is a requirement to love Jadie. So a big yes there. Surprisingly even though they only knew each other a few years Pragma was definitely covered. He loved her as if he knew her a thousand years. Lastly he loved her as loved himself. It was almost a perfect love. If she only felt the same. If only she wanted all the love he had to give.

Tonight they were to meet at the Colorado. A dive bar on the eastern end of Pasadena far away from the crowds, the metered parking, and the pretenious buzz of the upper middle class. Inside it was a little run down, with dark walls, neon signs, and a floor some how seemed to seamlessly blend into the ceiling. Dark leather booths lined the left side of the bar, and wooden bar stools lined the right side of the bar. Behind the bar were the usually selection of spirits and beer on mirroried shelves that one would find at any bar. There was no kitchen but they did sell small bags of potatoe chips and candy bars, and lotto tickets, very classy I know. I never said it was classy. Despite all its flaws they both loved it. They loved it the way one would love an old comfortable sweater. It was old and familiar, and it was theirs. A place they could hide from the world and find comfort in eachothers existence without interuption or distraction. The juke box didn’t have much of a modern selection, but it was filled with songs that resurrected fond warm memories of yesterday. The staff, while rough around the edges at times, provided fast, friendly and prompt service. It was definitly not high-end, but it was a place of comfort and refuge for them both. Most importantly it had a pool table in the backroom, which was one of the few physical activities he could confidently and consistently beat her at. He even bought her a personal pool stick as an incentive to play. It was pink with girl graphics that read “sweet candy.” It was probably more femine than she prefered, but he didn’t care. He just knew she would look cute holding it.

He had arrived before her. Instinctively he grabbed a seat at the bar and quickly ordered a drink. He texted her to get an ETA. She replied,”I’m running late, but please don’t be drunk when I get there.” Although he was not an alcholic, he did enjoy to drink and she felt there was a lack of control to this enjoyment. He never bothered to argue with her because he knew here words showed that she loved him. It was a Sunday afternoon, football was on, so he made small talk with the local bar flys while he waited for her. Finally, after about twenty minutes she arrived. He was already looking at the door. For some reason he always felt her before she arrived. Everything slowed down that moment, everything except his heart. The world just felt different when she was around.

She sat down at the bar and ordered her usual, Jameson and Ginger. The bartender quickly and with extra care delivered her drink. He thought to himself beauty does have it’s perks. She would deny any special treatment by men, but he always noticed that men, men with half a brain and working eyes, always treated her with special care. He would never be jealous over it. He understood there need to make her happy. “How could you not want to make that beautiful face smile,” he always thought to himself. (To be continued)