This is probably a risky proposition. It is late Christmas evening and I am well into a bottle of a very delicious cabernet. I'm contemplating what love really means. You can probably understand the risk I'm undertaking.

Love. A year ago, love seemed to me to be the simplest of things. It existed and you just had to stay present. That feeling of exhileration and giddiness that you two are the only people who have discovered this incredible thing.

Desire to be one with...