“I wouldn’t wish that kind of love on my worst enemy.”
In a night spent with one of my favorite drinking companions and filled with conversations about tween angst, self-mutilation, Keynesian Economics, fidelity, and moral compasses, that quip about unordinary love was the one that rang the loudest note.
Ordinary love is delightful, the bee’s knees, the berry’s razz, and all you could ever think you want. It is those things and more until the moment the universe curses you with that first hit of instantly addictive unordinary love and suddenly ordinary love seems… ordinary.
This blog began because of the soul crushing need to tell someone, anyone about my heartbreak after I found and quickly lost an unordinary love. I tried to write the story but even in retrospect the words failed me; I don’t think I got anywhere near describing my feelings. When it’s you, your heartbreak you don’t think even Shakespeare could find the words to capture it.
I am an optimist, a fucking pathetic romantic, and yet even I wonder if I am better for knowing what unordinary love is. I damn sure wouldn’t wish it on anyone else.