Day 2 (continued): "Have You Ever Been in Love?"

Carrie asks this to Mr. Big at the end of the first episode of Sex and the City. And what I can't believe is that she seems to never have been. How can you be in your mid thirties without ever experiencing love? I guess I relate more to Big when he answers "Absofuckinlutely."

But maybe there are degrees of love. This has always intrigued me. There's love and then there's LLLLLOVE. And when you're in LLLLLOVE, it seems that love was never love at all, just an impostor. Somehow, looking over all of our relationships in life, it becomes easy to sort them in order of love strength. Yeah, he was a two or maybe a three, while that other guy was clearly a 5. It hardly matters how long we were with them, whether or not marriage was discussed, how good the sex was. Some people just capture a bigger piece of our hearts than others. Why? And what does it mean?

When I first got together with Hank, my current partner, we both said it was love at first slow dance to "Thriller." We met through mutual friends--three of them--who all said we would be "perrrrr-fect" for each other (okay, confession: all involved were a bit tipsy, including us). And I was so cynical (what, me?). I didn't even want to meet him. Just out of another whirl-wind disaster of a relationship, which had begun right after yet another fatal union, I was all out of ways to make the spark last or even start to grow it into something meaningful. I just wanted to spend Saturday nights with my dog.

But Hank really did capture my heart. Right there on the dance floor. And he's kept it since without us even trying too hard. I don't understand it myself. I had struggled before to be right for other people, to think they were right for me. I had stayed in relationships for two, sometimes three years, just to figure out that I had known everything I needed to know at two months. Why do we stay when we know it's not right? Wait, I know the answer to that. We always think we might be wrong. That this really is as good as it gets.

So...love. How do we know when we're in it? How do we decide what's in love enough?

Sometimes it's the little things that end up feeling really big. I went shopping today. At Neiman Marcus. Let me reiterate that I don't have a job. I shouldn't be shopping. I should be staying as far away from malls as humanly--well, womanly--possible, especially evil stores like NM. But I had just come from my interview, which didn't go as smoothly as I had hoped, and I felt like I needed a drink. So I put $600 on my credit card instead. Cute Nine West red heels, a huge red clutch, and tailored designer jeans later, I was in trouble.

Shopping was always taboo in our family. With two doctors for parents, we had our fair share of disposable income. It was understood you would shop. But either because my father came from a humble Lutheran background and worked construction to put himself through college or because my mother's family repressed everything, you weren't supposed to talk about shopping. What you bought was to be hidden in the spare bedroom. That way it wouldn't cause anyone to worry that you were dealing with your emotions by making mass purchases.

I would like not to blame my current credit card debt on this shopping complex from childhood (so cliche), but old habits die hard. That's all I'm saying. And it's no coincidence that my sister is the only one I can talk to about shopping woes and the only one who is in deeper than me.

When I came home today with my loot, I looked guiltily at Hank. "I did a very bad thing, " I said. "I needed a drink." "Oh no," he said. "What happened?" I replied quickly, eager to feel relieved from telling my secret, "I decided to go to the mall." I prepared my gut for the blow. The "How could you?" he was sure to ask. I formed my argument for why spending that money really wasn't so bad. The self-blame and promises to cut up the credit card. "That's okay, sweetie. I thought you went and took shots or something." Huh? What? He didn't even care?Even after our conversations about why accumulating stuff wasn't the best way to feel good about your life? Even after I had told him it would stop?

And then I realized that that's love. Don't know what I mean, but when someone isn't even bothered by the things about yourself that bother you the most. Yeah, it would be easier on our finances if I didn't spend what we don't have (and we don't have it). But it isn't the end of the world.

There's that line that if you hate someone, the way he holds his fork will drive you crazy. If you love him, he could drop spaghetti in your lap, and you wouldn't care. Maybe that's all LLLLOVE is--the natural inclination to forgive another's faults because all you can see is his or her greatness. And that's a wonderful thing.

Hope you'll be back. I will.