I think I fall in love too easily. Too often. People, places, wine, dark chocolate. If my brain tells me that I’m safe and serene, then it must be love. Right? Love turns to lust and back into love when I figure out that the person or chocolate doesn’t really love me too. I’ll love from afar or over the phone or in an email. I love until I hurt. No one knows about my infatuation with them. I would never tell. That way I can’t get rejected. No harm, no foul. Just me pining away in my little fantasy world. The world where everyone is my friend or my lover. The world where bread doesn’t make you fat and bourbon doesn’t give you hangovers. The world where I can openly love whomever I want. I have been in love with leading ladies, bartenders, store clerks, singers, dancers, and public defenders. I fall in love too easily. Lonely and silently, I wait to be loved back.