The Goddess of Love Rules Me

I implore whatever gods will listen that in my next life—if I could be so lucky to win twice—I’d return as the wind just so I could be a breeze that brushes against her skin.

Every summer, I’d flow through her effortless hair as she walks along the beach. Come autumn, I’d shake the leaves because I know she loves to see them fall. In the winter, I'd send a gust full of snowflakes, each one as unique as her. And when spring arrives, I’d ensure the rain patters perfectly against her window so she can feel the peace that I won’t be there to offer her.

                                    ➷

A lot of people don’t believe in love at first sight, and who am I to say what someone experiences—or doesn’t? I’m just some guy who knows nothing about anything.

What I do know is that I found my one. She’s perfect in every way, but I could never get the words from my brain to my mouth. Before you start thinking this is some kind of stalker situation, that’s not what I mean. I’m not watching her from afar. We weren’t best friends, and I wasn’t hoping to be more—well, I mean, we were. And I was… best friends, I mean.

I’m getting ahead of myself. See, this is what I’m talking about. I just never know quite what to say. I have all the thoughts and the feelings, but I’m not quite sure how to express them. “Typical guy,” or whatever. But I don’t want to be that. She makes me want to be better. More.

Maeve Moss.

I may be indifferent to love at first sight, but when I first saw her, I had to know more. If curiosity at first sight was a thing, I’d be on board. It was like, in that moment, the rest of the world had a black-and-white filter on—a sort of haze. Except Maeve. She’s always been in color. Her eyes light every room she enters, and her smile warms every person lucky enough to encounter her. So when I saw her that day—at the gym of all places—I just had to know her.

I’m not the type to interrupt someone in the middle of their session, but lucky for me, she was. I was on the bench press, purposefully doing a comfortable amount of weight because I didn’t want to max out and make a complete fool of myself. And here she came, mid-rep, peering over me with a careless little wave that clogged my brain with so many thoughts, that I forgot to breathe.

I took off my headphones and said, “Yeah?” Not hi, like a normal person. Not what’s up, like a cooler version of myself. Just a goofy, yeah.

Maeve’s face squished into confusion, trying to understand my flat response. But she pressed on despite my incompetence.

“Hey there, I’ve seen you here a couple of times, and I was wondering if you could give me some tips? I usually just do cardio, but I’m looking to start weight training, and you look like you’ve got it figured out.”

She noticed me?

“Um, I’m no expert. The gym offers personal trainers?” I offered.

Why? Why on earth would I say that?

Taken aback, she said, “Oh, yeah, but they all seem like douchebags. You’re very…erm… respectable. I’ve never seen you checking out other girls or anything. You just kind of mind your business.”

I let out a chuckle. She’s not wrong. I’ve seen one too many of those videos where guys look like creeps in the background of gym influencers’ videos. Plus, I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable.

I rubbed the back of my neck, searching for the right words.

“Okay, well, I can’t promise you’ll get swole or anything.”

Swole!? It’s like I’d never interacted with anyone ever in my 25 years of life.

Regardless of my odd responses, she still pressed on.

“Fine by me. Truthfully, I don’t have the dedication to get beefy.”

We shared a laugh and had a great workout. Something happened that day—something drawing you to me. I don’t know what it was. Fate or destiny or whatever. But it changed the rest of my life.

We exchanged phone numbers and got married a year later.

My vows were terrible. I might as well have said “same” to her beautiful, well-thought-out masterpiece that made everyone in the audience cry. It’s been 23 years of communication, compromise, and sometimes disappointment.

We found out we weren’t able to have kids early in our marriage, and while I was sad, I didn’t care as long as it meant I still had her. Maeve changed, though. She always wanted kids, so after we found out, she started searching for any remedy possible. I supported her, found articles on homeopathic treatments, anything that could help. But I guess even a love this great has limitations, because we were unable to will ourselves a child.

Her sadness broke me. I could never find the right words to comfort her, so I did everything in my power to show it. One random Tuesday night, about five years into our marriage, I offered up becoming foster parents. The light that had dulled in her eyes after the news returned in a flash.

“My darling is so resilient,” I thought.

We did all the classes and paperwork, and I got to see a whole new version of her—Maeve 2.0. That’s the thing about love. You just grow as you go through life. As you flip the page to a new chapter, little things change, and all of a sudden, both of you are completely different people. But since you loved each new quirk and kink they gained along the way, you never fell out of love.

We’ve been through it all.

Except this. 

I’ve been her provider, her protector, all these years. But I can’t anymore. I have to go. I have to leave.

I didn’t see it coming, no one did, and this time, I can’t fix it.

I’ve never been the best at anything. Or the worst. I didn’t catch people’s attention or stand out in a crowd. But none of that mattered the moment we met, because being seen by you made up for it all. And though I lived a short life, it wasn’t just full—it overflowed because you were in it.

I guess it takes dying to finally get the words right.

Yours into oblivion,

Paul

                                    ➷

I suppose I must have been a good person. Not great or wonderful by any account, but perhaps my connection to you is what bridged the gap.

To be privileged, to be allotted this task—I couldn’t care less about the boats, the planes, or the clouds. It’s you that I’m most excited about.

How lucky am I to know someone so intimately? And how unfortunate am I to be plagued with a love such as ours?

Nevertheless, until you join me, I am content being the breeze that brushes against your skin.