I have a terrible habit of falling in love with randoms that I will never speak to or see again in my life. Some of these randoms actually mean more to me than a couple of the folks to whom I've actually said the words "I love you."

Today, I was driving home from my fieldwork in a local high school when "American Music" by the Violent Femmes came on the radio. Every time I hear that song, I think back to when I was 13 and saw the band for the first time in concert, with the first boy I ever really fell for. There was a couple there who will forever be etched in my heart as an image of love at its best. They were probably in their mid- to late-thirties, slightly out of place at this all-ages show, but just so damn happy with each other. When the band went into this song, they began to swing dance in this familiar way, slowly but lightly, like they'd danced to this song in exactly this same way for years. At the time, I was laboring under the heart-rending delusion of "my first true love," an experience from which I still haven't fully recovered. Watching those two dance, I suddenly thought to myself, "THAT is what I want." Honestly though, I'm still not sure what I meant.