Love and Time And Ferretts

(NOTE: Based on time elapsed since the posting of this entry, the BS-o-meter calculates this is 16.884% likely to be something that Ferrett now regrets.)

I make an odd distinction in love that I’ve recently come to realize is not universal:
I love easily, passionately, and freely.  And for me, love is defined as something that I wrote to Jenphalian (although this love I’m describing is more amorous in nature, while much of my love is platonic):
“Each love I have is a unique thing where I sigh a little differently. (Gini has ‘An S smile’ she gets when she’s texting with her boyfriend S, which amuses me.)  For me, a core need is to know that I’m not some interchangeable widget in my lover’s personal factory, and that if I left it would leave a small, Ferrett-shaped hole – a tiny wound that could be worked around, perhaps even eventually heal over without much scarring, but a thing that still would cause a unique and wondrous ache in its absence.”
Anyone I love, I would be there for if they needed me.  That’s a part of that love – that their happiness is, in some part, essential to my own, and I’ll work to fulfill their needs.
But there’s also a strange, flip side to it that I realize is not present for most people: the intensity of my love does not necessarily require a similarly-intense time component.
Which is to say that I love Nayad, who is a wonderful person and smart and witty and fun to hug, but I can go several weeks without hearing from her and not be particularly the worse off.  Don’t get me wrong, I like to hear from her – my day is always much brightened by a Nayad text or an email – but despite my deep feelings for her and the way I’d drop nearly anything to help her if she was in trouble, there’s no obligation to spend my days in touch with her.
Likewise, I love JFargo, a wonderful man who I wish I had more time with, but though we exchange comments and Facebook posts and whatnot, there’s no need for me to plan all my time in New York to see more of him.  I’m just happy when we intersect, and I don’t necessarily need to eke out more time.  That’s the way it works for me.
Those are both platonic loves, of course, but it works for many of my more amorous loves as well.  In many cases, we’ll exchange spates of flirty texts – but they’re busy, I’m busy, I barely have enough vacation days as it is.  We’ll think about planning an intersection when I’m in their vicinity or vice-versa, or plan an annual get-together… But it’s not the burning need to spend every day with them.  The fact that I don’t have a requirement to see them doesn’t mean that I love them less, it just means that my love’s a slightly different flavor.
Which is weird.  I mean, I do have loves who I need to see (Gini, Bec, Angie being the main drives, which is why I suppose they’re my “main” partners) – but to me, that’s just one of many wondrous factors that goes into making those particular loves unique.
Yet I can have a torrid affair with someone who I see maybe once every two years, and keep that love going, and not necessarily have a burning urge to drive out to Albuquerque.  I’m not sure how weird that makes me.  Pretty very, probably.

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