A platonic love.

Love according to Platon…

For him, love was something essentially pure and devoid of passions, because these are essentially blind, material, ephemeral, false… and that he has not known this age of ours, in which we try so hard to pretend to be happy to those who do not give a damn about us!

On a simpler level, more in line with what the rest of us mortals understand, it is explained that platonic love is that which is idealized, even without finding sexual desire, we mention platonic love as that romantic feeling you have for a person who, for some reason, for many, for customs and social norms, for ideals, for religion …. is unattainable, come on, the typical love we have felt for that teacher of our youth just started, sorry, in this time of inclusive language I have forgotten that it can also be the teacher, but you know what I mean, the friend or friend of any family member who came home and … well, the expression is to stay dumb, dumb and drooling.

And after this brief description of something that I don’t know if it has happened to you, I think it’s my turn to describe what I feel now.

I must admit that lately I’m in a romantic mood, and the excuse is not spring, or age or hormones or any other chemical agent that could circulate in the air, apart from the damn bug, I’m simply and tremendously romantic.

And as I have the fortune of being able to talk about it with a good handful of friends, to whom the ingestion of a couple of barley juices, puts them more than predisposed to not get up and run away …. let’s say that I can try to understand the reason for this current state of mine, a state that is causing me a good number of incredible moments in which only half smiles prevail, the continuous surprise at a phrase or that which causes a look with certain doses of disbelief to say that yes, that I am simply and plainly in love, yes, in a total and fully platonic way, something I appreciate, since, among other circumstances, you could classify me as a dirty old man hahahaha.

All this caused by a… how the hell shall I describe it, because the truth is that, at this point, I have no words to describe it or to try to define it, not even to approach… to whom?

Doubts, more and more doubts, in something that I try to analyze, something that comes from my part of curious nature, but that deep down I am not sure if I want to know, because after all, in the search, during all that time in reality one speculates, dreams, fantasizes, believes and then rectifies, and it is in all those moments in which there is no certainty of anything…it is there where the pleasure of the search resides.

Maybe everything is based on the fact that at this age I am, I still refuse to stop trying, I refuse to belong to that group of unbelievers, some with less years, others perhaps with more, to whom the idea of loving someone again is strange or even inadequate.

But those who really know me, know that I am someone who defines himself as rare, as different, perhaps that is why I declare myself, in these lines tremendously in love, with life, with every woman who causes me sensation, I declare myself in love with every moment that allows me a sigh, with all those moments, barely perceptible, that allow me to dream, a funny image on a mobile screen, an email message, hearing the voice of so many people who add in my day to day, the new projects that are emerging.

And yes, she is the culprit, she is my platonic love.

*** Translated with http://www.DeepL.com/Translator (free version) ***

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