“To love is to suffer. To avoid suffering one must not love. But then one suffers from not loving. Therefore to love is to suffer, not to love is to suffer. To suffer is to suffer. To be happy is to love. To be happy then is to suffer. But suffering makes one unhappy. Therefore, to be unhappy one must love, or love to suffer, or suffer from too much happiness. I hope you’re getting this down.” Only Woody Allen could say it so precise. Valentine’s Day is approaching it’s cold outside and I’m missing a human blanket.

So, here is the question proposed to me by a dear friend, who kicks ass Cupid or Saint Valentine? My first response is of course is Cupid, I mean he is armed and dangerous with that bow and arrow, and what powers does Saint Valentine have other than the backing of the entire Catholic Church, I believe that answers that question. So we mortals are powerless when it comes to love. It only takes a small little prick from Cupid’s arrow or a semi large toy in a drawer that will make us sigh and scream to the heavens, “I LOVE YOU” right before we come crashing down to the ground, and as we spit the dirt out of our mouths, brush the grass stains from our cheeks, we call up and reserve the U-Haul and visit K Diamonds.

 I love, love. I like buying flowers, the first kiss, the smell of her perfume in a mall, finding myself stopping and looking, unconsciously, ‘cause my body knows her well. I love the torment of waiting for her call, just to hear her voice even when I really don’t have anything to say, not having those awkward silent moments, because there is always between the lines.

I had someone approach me once and tell me I must be a masochist because I give my heart so freely, love never lasts, I go from one heart ache to another, my answer was why live, we all are going to die. Love is sorrow, but it is joy, it is laughter, it can be freedom, it can allow you to fly, it  can be a mirror to who you are the light that guides you down the path of life. It is Eros, it is passion, it is the fart that doesn’t stink. So my friends don’t let anyone tell you not to love, but ask them why not?