One rainy afternoon in San Francisco, I was enjoying a glass of wine with someone I had met through a mutual friend. When my new acquaintance mentioned our compadre, a warmth filled my chest, a feeling of affinity and kinship that expanded my sense of aliveness. “I love that guy,” I said.
Our mutual buddy had been the college roommate of another dear friend, and they had shared years of formative and transformational experiences together, key players in countless stories I had heard over the years.
“You don’t even know him”, the man said from across the table. “I hate it when people use the word ‘love’ so casually. It cheapens it.” Wow.
I was floored — shamed, hurt, and really, really confused. I had no idea what he was talking about and I couldn’t think of a question that would help clarify what he meant. His indictment of my Love…
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