Oh, Jean-Louis. You problematic, magnetic SOB. Ninety-one years to the day after your birth, and we-the writers, readers, and open souls of the world-still cannot escape your torturous orbit. As for me: my heart is willing, but my mind is not quite able to sprint the final few yards into your embrace. I promise to try again, like I always do. You know how it goes. It’s not you, it’s me. It’s not me, it’s you. It’s the two of us, together. I love you and hate you and love-hate-hate-love you. This dance we do will never end; the steps and the rhythm will change, but the tune will echo to eternity. Until next time.
Love and kisses and shrugs,
Maedez
On the Road
“I was surprised, as always, by how easy the act of leaving was, and how good it felt. The world was suddenly rich with possibility.”-Jack Kerouac, On the Road
A Small Press Life: Books. Art. Writing. Life. Tea. 
It would be hard for a modern woman to love him, really.
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I’d like to think as much but, unfortunately, there is way too much evidence to the contrary. Plenty of women love him without limit or question.
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You are probably right. There are still many men like that and many women who go for them. Love is complicated.
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Indeed!
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Lovely note, and you hit the nail right on the head- a problematic, magnetic SOB indeed.
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