Am I in love?

A friend of mine asked, and you, are you in love?
I avoided to answer, saying some silliness. But the reason is simple.
The answer is too complex. No simple answer would satisfy my need to fully honor the truth of my state. Nor did I want to look pedantic or worse, wise, by splitting the hair in four.
So I avoided to answer, but here, here I can answer. Protected by my anonimity, and by the irresponsability coming from having no well defined group of readers.

So, am I in love?
Yes and no. My body produces love every day; come rain or come shine. Most days there is no one to focus this love on. So sometime, when the sensation grows stronger, I sit in blessed solitude, and send this love. I send it to my friends. One by one. To my enemies, one by one. I normally don’t reach the end of this list that the love has already been consumed all. Like a finite substance, which can only satiate a finite number of people. I never tell them what I did. And I find more pleasure to send love to my enemies than to my friends, as a sort of twisted, personal, secret revenge. It makes me feel superior. Superior to their hate, superior to the low bickering that might be going on. I know I could be criticised for this feeling. For this loss of spirit with which I move my actions, but you see I am not moved by religious feelings. Nor am I moved by altruistic ones (if they even ever existed). I am moved by purely personal egoistical feelings. It gives me pleasure to send this love to my fellow human beings. I think this is what love is for. I send it to my friends, because I love them. And I send it to my enemies, because I love them too, beyond the littleness of our common stupid argument. And if they are secretly doing it to me too, then they too are superior. Superior to their small ego. Of course not as superior as me, just mildly superior . There is a similar practice in Buddhism, it is called sending Metta. I only heard about it from others, and I never practiced it, but I am sure it must be a great practice.

So am I in love? Does it make any sense? I feel love every day. But I am not in love.

But one thing is also important. Although right now I am not in love, I am this far (showing two fingers, close together) from being in love. I could fall at any moment. My heart is ready and ripe. I keep meeting interesting women, some beautiful, some intelligent, and some both. I am starting to appreciate women in their 30s for their maturity, balance and braveness. Not all, but some. (The others being so boring I shall not spend more than one parenthesis on them). I appreciate women in their 20s for their struggle in finding themselves. For their passion, and again for their braveness. I also appreciate late teens for the perfection of their bodies.

I also have a number of female friends that seem to be interested in me. The one thing they have in common is to have a partner. And although I said that I don’t go with married women, this does not cover unmarried couples. I just consider myself an instrument to test the relationship before the marriage, and my consciousness is thus satisfied.

I love each of those women, I have not fallen in love, but I love them. I do occasionally fall for one, and I always get rapidly back in line as soon as I see where de facto do I stand in her priorities.

And so this man grows, in love, balance and moderation.
Learning more about breathing and control
than about passion and ecstasy.