I wish there were a way to make love uncomplicated.  This evening I had dinner with someone -- the only person I've ever imagined myself marrying.  It fills my heart when I am with this person.   And yet . . .   I don't think things are mirrored.  

I don't know if they every will develop the way I want.  I tend to think love sometimes means respecting the autonomy of one's beloved.  Of letting that beloved have the freedom to love or not love . . .   And yet.  . . .   

I think of the ending of Shakespeare's Sonnet 130:

"And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare

As any she belied with false compare. "

Ah love . . .