Of Love, Moths, and Butterflies

Every man, at least once in his life, has a butterfly.

She is that ethereal woman that made him have a quick intake of breath the first time he encountered her. It is not the same as that hmmmm of curiosity he feels from mere attraction, interest, lust, or desire. There is something about her.

She lingers in his mind, almost a unicorn of sorts.

She lasts there more than just a few weeks or months. He holds her high above others for years or a lifetime.

Sometimes she is someone he never could have. Other times, he briefly held the butterfly before it flitted from his grasp. Then, she is called “the one who got away.”

Every now and then, he can hold his butterfly for life. Maybe it’s the butterfly, or maybe it’s the man.

Butterflies are the love that captures a man’s mind for more than a few weeks or months. She is always, hauntingly, there.

She may not be beautiful to the world, but to him, she bears all the colors of the universe.

 

Men also have moths. Moths are also lovely, fluttery, beautiful things.

But they are never the butterfly.

Moths are warm and comforting. They are a safe place.

But they are never the butterfly.

The man can even be completely committed to the moth, completely love them.

But they are never the butterfly.

Even if the world finds the moth prettier, they are never the butterfly.

 

The butterfly will always be there somewhere, lurking in a man’s mind, even when he loves the moth.

The butterfly will, regardless of that bond, randomly flit through his mind and cause a spark in his eye.

His heart will never let her go completely, even if he would never leave the moth for her.

There’s just something special about her.

 

And that is the difference.

To you, I was always just a moth. But, to him…. I’m his butterfly.