Originally posted by yo its meShe was at the time, I was totally blinded by love, whatever others where telling me, "your throwing away your life" etc etc, my dad even kicked me out of the family home, he was that discusted.
Was she the "one"
Do you ever see her?
I saw her once, when I was with my wife and daughter coming out of a Tesco store a few years ago, we both said "Hello", my wife asked who she was, I just said "Someone I used to work with"
Things that are in the past are best left in the past, plus the fact, my wife was VERY jealous of me talking to other women (let alone her knowing who she actually was!) and wouldn't have got anything for a month, if you know what I mean!!
😉
Originally posted by SquelchbelchGood answer only one small problem.
Caring more about someone else than you do about yourself.
I love many things... I love a warm blanket on a cold evening, I love reading a good book, I love lasagna, I love the way the sunlight filters through my blinds first thing in the morning... Does that mean I regard these things as intimate and that I'd be willing to lay my life down to save them from a crazy gun slinger? No. My addiction to breathing wins there.
Originally posted by NatsiaThat's a different kind of love than the type you asked about.
Good answer only one small problem.
I love many things... I love a warm blanket on a cold evening, I love reading a good book, I love lasagna, I love the way the sunlight filters through my blinds first thing in the morning... Does that mean I regard these things as intimate and that I'd be willing to lay my life down to save them from a crazy gun slinger? No. My addiction to breathing wins there.
Originally posted by Natsiathe greeks had something like 9 different words for love. it we lived 2000 ago (and in greece) there wouldn't be this confusion...
Good answer only one small problem.
I love many things... I love a warm blanket on a cold evening, I love reading a good book, I love lasagna, I love the way the sunlight filters through my blinds first thing in the morning... Does that mean I regard these things as intimate and that I'd be willing to lay my life down to save them from a crazy gun slinger? No. My addiction to breathing wins there.