It's seems I'm married to Love and I don't even know how. But Someone regretted informing me that no Thanksgiving no Christmas and no New Years was included in the vows. Putting such emphasis on an unwritten decree caused me to send out a message in a bottle. Just to see who it would reach. The message stated; I'm frustrated aggravated emotionally perplexed. I had the silly notion it was just men who confused Love with sex. Maybe it's not a problem and just how the new age works. It's getting to the point I'm so nauseous of always putting Love first. You see I love to write. I Love heavy responsibility. I Love doing romantic things. I Love long walks. I Love motivating talks. I Love what being unpredictable brings. But again misinformed none of that matters more than that damn diamond ring. I'm in conflict with changing and settling for less. But this damn bug in my ear whispers "mistake of the flesh." For now love has moved to the back seat from center stage. Replaced with enraged lack of communication and tight clutched fists. Both sex's indulging in the down low with that same sex s**t. Understandably confusing. So whoever gets this bottle keep the original contents intact. Place a label on its condition and send the Love right back.