So I was riding my bike the other day, when it struck me that Poor Kyle doesn’t love me at all.
Leastwise, he doesn’t love me as much as some men love their spouses.
Tangent: I once had a friend who was convinced that her fiance loved her more than any fiance has ever loved his bride-to-be in the history of the world. I thought that was nice. And then I thought, “Not me. I know Poor Kyle loves me, but I’d say his love for me is just about…average. He loves me probably only as MUCH as other men love their girlfriends, but certainly no more. We’re hitting par. Batting average. We’re not striking out, no…but we’re certainly not blowing any records out of the water.” Is that normal to think about the love between one and one’s spouse?
Anyway, I guess we’re declining in our marriage, because now I don’t think Poor Kyle loves me even half as much as other men love their wives. He certainly doesn’t love me as much as JOHN LUVS MARIA:
But really, that’s sort of an arbitrary standard to set for Poor Kyle. I mean, I can go around all day saying he doesn’t love me as much as JOHN LUVS MARIA, but what does that really mean for Poor Kyle? Nothing. He needs to know just how much JOHN really does LUV MARIA. So let me clarify…
JOHN LUVS MARIA enough to paint it on the street a hundred times throughout town. And not with a can of spray paint, either—JOHN LUVS MARIA much more than spray paint could ever express. Spray paint is the medium of gangsters and overly-bored teenage punksters. But JOHN? JOHN’s love for MARIA is far greater than spray paint. JOHN LUVS MARIA, and to prove it, he needs BUCKETS full of paint. And stir sticks, too. JOHN litters the streets with his love for MARIA. Poor Kyle probably only loves me with enough love for a bottle of toenail polish. Lucky MARIA.
Real, true, paint splotches serve as evidence of JOHN’s LUV for MARIA.
Also too, JOHN LUVS MARIA enough to take up the entire street saying so. Poor Kyle probably only loves me enough for the bike lane (if this town even had them, which it doesn’t).
In fact, JOHN LUVS MARIA so much, he wrote it ten or maybe twenty times all over the streets of Mayberry to prove it. I went to the starting line of his LUV, and found an interesting progression of passion:
First, he wrote only “I {HEART} MARIA,” which, presumably, was simply too arbitrary a sentiment. It could have been anyone hearting MARIA, and that simply wouldn’t do…
…so he got a little more ambitious, this time staking claim to Maria with his own initials. Twenty feet further up the road, he scrawled, “JW {HEART} MC.” But stepping back to admire his handiwork, he decided it still wasn’t quite right. It needed something more…
…it needed her middle initial. You know…to prove he knows her entire name. Obviously. That’s how to tell if someone really loves you, my Grandma always used to say—if he can remember your birthday and your middle name. [Poor Kyle thinks I was born in January, and I don’t have a middle name for him to remember, but if I did, I’m sure it wouldn’t take.] “JW {HEART} MSC.”
And yet, even that leap of bravery could not fully encompass the love he feels for Maria…
The heart symbol just didn’t cut it. He needed the word—LUV. “JW LUVS MSC.”
Ultimately, though, JOHN realised the only way to fully prove to MARIA how much he loved her, was to prove how much he would sacrifice for her. He finally graduated to the biggest love-proving risk of all: REAL FIRST NAMES. He must have realised it was the only way to fully prove his love for the doe-eyed beauty, because the next sign I came to was this:
There it is—JOHN LUVS MARIA, , in the middle of the intersection of Main Street and the highway out of town, for all the world {or at least all of Mayberry} to see. If there were a mountain nearby, I’m sure JOHN would have shouted his sentiments from the highest peak of it. He LUVS MARIA, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it.
He even wrote it bigger later on down the road (pictured first).
I know I sound bitter. I am bitter. And of course, everyone knows that bitter people started out as jealous people, and I’m nothing if not jealous. I mean, John put forth a noble effort to proclaim his LUV for Maria, which is more than Poor Kyle ever did for me. John lost countless hours of sleep in the dead of night to drive around town painting love notes in the middle of the street so Maria could wake up the next morning and roll over the paint with her tires on her way to work. John vandalised the entire community in Maria’s name, which will probably cost the town—and Maria’s parents—hundreds of tax dollars to repair. John is a first-rate gentleman, and a ladies’ man to boot. Who WOULDN’T be jealous of Maria’s fine catch?
I mean, all Poor Kyle ever does for me is grab me by the shoulders, look me in the eye and SAY he loves me. Oh, and he bought me a diamond ring—the very one I’d asked for—as a symbol of his love. And then he got down on his knee not once, not twice, but THREE times to ask me to marry him (I was playing hard to get—so sue me).
Yes, John loves Maria. Of that I’m sure. But what I don’t understand is, if he loves her so very much (as we’re all led to believe he does), why couldn’t he spell “LUV” the right way?
Put a hat on that “U” and add an “E,” John! That’s the only real way to prove your love—typos will get you nowhere, you poor old fool. Maria can probably spot a fraud from a mile away (the whole town can, for that matter).
How much does John love Maria? Lots and lots, sure.
But not enough to spell it, and that’s just…not enough.
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