Maybe it’s because spring comes so early here in the Pacific Northwest, but lately, love has been happening all around me.
Just this past week, I saw two different puppy love scenarios.
At the local pub we visit often, there was a young couple across from us at the bar. They were nose to nose, talking and laughing, genuinely into each other.
The petting was tasteful and they only had eyes for each other, like they were the only two inside the crowded bar—and, to hell with the rest of us.
Mr. H and I couldn’t help but smile at them. With love contagious in the air, we moved our barstools a little closer to each other and stayed that way.
Then the other day I went for my usual long hike up to the Pittock Mansion and ended up behind another couple the entire uphill journey. They matched my speed perfectly—and, I haul ass—so there was no way to pass them without sprinting suddenly like a weirdo.
I was annoyed at first, because hey, it gets really old staring at the same asses for an hour when you’re climbing technical trails, trying to enjoy nature.
There was a lot of hair flipping and giggling coming from her, while he strutted up the hill with his hands in the pockets of his baggy basketball shorts. Mr. Cool Guy.
They were heading to the same place I was, so I stopped being a cynical asshole and decided my fate was tied to the bouncy cute couple until I reached the top.
At the top of the hill, where Pittock Mansion is, lies the lovers bench many of you have heard me go on and on about for the past year. If you need to get up to speed, you can check out The Fate of the Lovers Bench.
I thought I could peek at the new bench to see how many love carvings had come about since last fall. Back in October, Portland Parks & Rec replaced the beautifully battered bench from before, because its old wood was unrecognizable from the romantic “vandalism” it had endured over the years.
As it was a Saturday, I assumed the bench would be taken. And, it was.
He matched the trees and she matched the roses next to the bench.
I felt a little guilty taking this picture, but like the couple at the bar earlier in the week, nothing else existed.
The bench was their world. Me and the other thirty or so people wandering around the grounds were invisible.
I didn’t stay long. I wanted to go home to my man. To be looked at, to be kissed, to be loved.