What I Miss about Being in Love

I miss being in love. Not because of the man, but because of how love made me feel.

It was the feeling of being heard, of watching my ideas land softly and be met with curiosity, even excitement. Love showed up for me as intellectual intimacy, as a space to think out loud and feel valued in the process. When someone was beside me, it became easier to acknowledge my own thoughts, and trust their worth. That alignment is what I long for now.

The truth is, raising my own blood pressure takes no effort at all. I can do that instantaneously. Just one unfortunate memory will do: the guy who didn't text back, the time I felt like the ugly duckling in the group, the time I wasn't chosen first. One thought and BAM! the spiral begins. My body reacts before logic can catch up, and suddenly I'm sad, irritated, or quietly unraveling before I even realize I've gone too far.

What feels more unfair is how much effort "good" feelings require. Love, especially. Love needs alignment. Timing, openness, safety, presence... all have to agree at once. Honestly, love is a diva! But, she's worth it.

Recently, I found myself thinking about the last time I was in love. Not to romanticize it, but to understand it. The way you replay a place you once visited, trying to remember the taste of the food, and what surprised me was this: I wasn't remembering him. I was remembering who I was when I was with him.

In love, I felt expansive. Like I could slow time long enough to feel the quiet electricity of new thoughts being created. Those gentle tingles told me that I was aligned. I noticed more. I listened better. I responded with grace. I was most alive when I was with someone as curious about the "whys" as I am. I was excavating parts of myself I hadn't reached before. Unearthing gifts within me that had been waiting. Love felt like having someone steady the ladder while I climbed to a higher view. It lived in the pauses after a thought shared, in the mutual smile before the response. In conversations that stretched from culture to politics to the ways we raise children, where differences weren't battlegrounds, but invitations. We didn't compete. We explored.

Yes, there was touch, skin, heat, closeness, but love wasn't anchored there. It was bigger than the physical. It was in the moments my soul slipped free and breathed fully. Because the soul is meant to dance, nude, unchoreographed, without music. Just pulse and truth held safely by love.

Someone once said that you don't fall in love with the person. You fall in love with the version of yourself that responds to them. I believe that now. Nothing was different about me back then. I wasn't prettier, healthier, or wealthier. Miami's romantic scenery wasn't grand. And his biceps, kind voice, or smile, though enchanting, had already faded from memory. What remained is the woman I became in that space: curious, sharp, and alive, exploring her own mind and reaching for connection to understand.

The Story of how I Fell in Love by Accident

I met him at a charity event tucked inside a candlelit courtyard. String lights hung overhead, pretty standard and mood effective. Generous floral arrangements of white hibiscus, peach Angel's Trumpets, and bleeding hearts, very Miami, very à propos.

It was Miami, so I didn't bother checking the weather, big mistake. The Magic City had the audacity to dip into the low sixties. I was wearing a sheer golden sequin dress with thin spaghetti straps, designed for confidence, not windchill.

I stood near the edge of the crowd, quietly observing, my natural demeanor. From the corner of my eye, I noticed him hesitate before approaching me. He was tall and slender, obviously loyal to his gym membership. His afro was coarse and full, with silver strands poking through. He looked slightly nervous, and oddly enough, something about that disarmed me.

"Are you cold?" He gently asked. Already slipping off his blazer.

"I must have deeply offended the weather," I replied.

He chuckled and draped the blazer around my shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"I'm sorry Miami betrayed you," he said. "It usually behaves better."

We laughed and chatted with no rush.

"What brought you here tonight?" he asked.

"I believe in Color of Hope," I said. "And I believe in showing up when I say I will."

He nodded. "I like that."

"And you?"

"I am taking steps to be a better man than I was last year. So, I volunteer more and attend charity events that speak to me."

That answer lingered.

We exchanged numbers. Nothing cinematic. Nothing forced.

Weeks passed. Dates followed. Many adventures and long conversations that stretched past comfort and into curiosity. Eventually, we were together. Secrets were revealed, not for drama, but to purge what was crowding within to make room for new core memories.

In time, we went our separate ways, amicably.

Carrying Love Beyond the Destination

Love was never about him. But I do miss being heard.

I learned to dim the world just enough actually to feel. The sharpness softened, the noise faded, and suddenly, the present was enough. And in the present, there is nothing to push against. There is no resistance. Just ease, quiet, and divine hum that wrapped itself around everything and made life feel lighter. He was the doorway. The doorway into a version of myself I sometimes forget how to access. I started to understand my own patterns, my own wiring, and the stories I carry. Every conversation was an invitation inward. A chance to examine an emotion and appreciate it without judgment. To notice how the places I've been and the journeys I've taken shape the way I think. And once you learn about yourself, grace for others comes easier. Almost naturally.

The state of love is abundant. And yes, I was only in that relationship for a short while, but time doesn't matter here. A new rhythm takes over. One that feels truer than anything I was forcing before. What a beautiful feeling love is.

It didn't belong to Miami.

It didn't belong to him.

It is within me, and it still lives here. It just needs the right key.

I am grateful, deeply grateful, that I learned to carry love beyond the destination of Miami.

FIN

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