Blackbird

TONS of Beatles songs, especially from their earlier albums, are written about love, but I didn’t pick one of them even though that's exactly what I'm writing about.  The song of the week is Blackbird from the Beatles White Album.  To me, it’s a very powerful tune, and no other song could better represent a post about the three most powerful words in the English language:  I, love, and you.

You can probably guess where I’m going with this—last weekend, my boyfriend of two months, Colin, told me that he loves me for the first time.  I was completely shocked and squealed excitedly as I wrapped my arms around him, barely managing to squeak out a, “Reeeeaaaaalllly?!”  He began to explain himself, “Maybe it’s too soon to say this, but…” Realizing that in my elation I had forgotten to reciprocate, I looked straight into his eyes and finally said it.  “Colin, I love you too.”

I apologize for the sappiness of the post, but it was a sappy moment.  After saying the words back and forth a few more times just because they felt so new and wonderful, we literally just beamed at each other and hugged, both realizing the significance of what had just happened. 

“I love you” is an enormous thing to say to a person, and saying it for the first time must be taken with caution.  It can’t be said too early.  A premature “I love you” is a red flag to me—someone who can fall in love too quickly can fall out just as fast.  Unfortunately, there’s no prescribed amount of time a man must wait before saying the big three words because relationships are so unique and personal.  I say “a man” because, in my opinion, it is absolutely his job to say “I love you” first.  Also, when he’s saying it for the first time, he has to, has to, has to be sober, or else it’s perceived meaningless.  Similarly, “I love you” must be sincere.  Ladies, I’d say we’re pretty good at detecting bulls*%$, wouldn’t you agree?

Luckily Colin met all of these prerequisites, and it’s the craziest thing in the world.  It’s literally a physical feeling—I can feel it in my chest.  It’s heavy and light at the same time, like chocolate mousse.  It spreads through my whole body and I feel weightless, like I’m floating.  It’s the feeling of the first day of spring, that birthday feeling, that Christmas morning feeling.  It’s indescribable but unmistakable, and I’m smiling, smiling, smiling at everything.  It’s terrifying and it’s breathtaking, like a “blackbird singing in the dead of night.”  When it’s real, nothing that has happened in the past is really important.  With Colin, I can “take these broken wings and learn to fly.”  I’ve said it before:  I didn’t expect this and I wasn’t even looking for this, but I know now that “all [my] life, [I] was only waiting for this moment to arise.”

“Blackbird fly,

Into the light of the dark black night.”