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  • dearabi

Dear John,

Sorry Scott, I know ur waiting for me to write about sports. And I’m sorry Q, I know I promised to blog about bringing the “make out” back. And I’m sorry Anonymous, but I’ll have to take a rain check on posting about how to give ur woman the best orgasm of her life and afterlife. ‘Cuz after watching Dear John I’ve decided to briefly write about (surprise, surprise) LOVE.

It may seem as if all I’ve been doing is writing about love, but I ain’t talkin about the kind of “love” I’ve been ranting about for the past month. Not the kind of love that hurts, or makes u want to disappear. I’m talkin that good-good. The kind of love that wakes u up in the morning long before ur woman does but keeps u in bed staring at sleeping beauty, and feeling so lucky to have her by ur side. The kind of love where nothing looks, smells, or feels more like home than being in ur mans arms.

Yeaaah, that kinda love.

I almost forgot about it. No, I’m lying. I just didn’t believe in it anymore. Until last night when as cheesy as it sounds, Dear John reminded me of how beautiful love can and will be. Granted, I only watched the movie ‘cuz of the fineness known as Channing Tatum – but it was a decent flick even though I prefer gangster love stories like Carlito’s Way and romantic comedies like Sweetest Thing. Regardless, I’m glad I watched it.

Because now I can once again look forward to feeling like a giddy little school girl when I get cute texts messages instead of feeling anxiety in my stomach when I don’t. I can once again look forward to the first date instead of the last good-bye. I can once again look forward to kissing in the rain instead of wishing it would it would wash me away. I can once again look forward to being myself instead of looking in the mirror and not knowing who the fuck is staring back at me. And most of all, I can once again look forward to being in love.

And don’t worry, so can you.


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