BB Grey–musings

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So, I wake up early because I crash early—makes sense, right? But 1:30 a.m.? That’s not early; that’s just rude. I tried to zen out, refusing to grab my phone or flip on the lights—basically avoiding the overstimulation trap I used to fall into with my little girls. Back when they were 1 or 2, I’d get them all riled up right before bed, and my wife would give me that look. You know, the one that says, “Congrats, genius, now they won’t sleep, I won’t sleep, and you’ll be snoring like a champ while I plot your demise.” Worked out great for me then. Maybe this 1:30 a.m. nonsense is the universe’s way of balancing the scales—her sleeping like a baby somewhere, me staring at the ceiling. Cosmic justice, baby.

Anyway, there I am, 1:30 a.m., brain doing its thing. Sure, I could’ve stewed over civil war vibes—haves vs. have-nots, left vs. right, up vs. down, straight vs. crooked, you name it. Heavy stuff, worth a rant someday, but nah, not today. Instead, my noggin latched onto something juicier: falling in love. Oh yeah, we’re going there.

Now, falling in love sounds fun—dizzy spins, butterfly riots in your gut, can’t sleep, can’t stop thinking about them. You’re checking your phone like a maniac, hoping their profile pic pops up, even when you’re not holding the dang thing. Their text bubbles stalk you all day, popping up whenever they feel like it. Everything they say? Hilarious, brilliant, swoon-worthy. You’re basically a walking rom-com montage. That’s the falling part—easy peasy, like tripping over your own feet and loving every second of it.

But here’s the kicker: do you keep falling? Forever? Or do you just… stop? Land in Loveville, population: you two? Does it stay fresh, or does it get that funky fridge taste—like, “Eh, it’s probably fine, but I’m not risking the ER over this”? My brain’s racing now, possibilities piling up like laundry I swore I’d fold last week. This isn’t Socrates or Descartes-level philosophy—more like Homer Simpson chasing a donut and calling it a breakthrough. But my blog’s got “Musings” in the title, so let’s muse, dang it.

So, falling’s the thrill ride. But what’s next? Do you slow the drop, stick the landing, and set up camp in Love Land? Or does “landing” mean you’ve gotta climb back up—like, “Oops, fell in love, now I’m unfalling, somebody call a tow truck”? My ex? She didn’t just land—she hit the ground, dusted herself off, and sprinted for the exit. Guess I wasn’t so charming when the world stopped spinning. Fair enough—I feel that way about myself half the time.

Then there’s this old guy I know, married 50 years. When he sees his wife, he lights up like a kid on Christmas. Talks about her like she hung the moon, never a sour word. He loves her—present tense, active, not just some dusty “loved” in the past. Is he in love? Still falling after all this time? Or did he arrive in Love Land and build a cozy cabin? Does it need a little motion, a perpetual stumble toward her, or can you just be there without getting antsy? And if you’re there, just the two of you—no kids, no high school exes, no bromances sneaking in—doesn’t that sound… intense? Exhausting, even? Maybe falling’s the secret sauce—keeps it spicy. Or maybe you just reminisce about the tumble as you creak into old age, because let’s face it, falling’s second nature, and the crash isn’t always pretty.

Love’s tricky—looks different to everyone. Me? I dig the falling bit. It’s a blast. But being the one who’s gotta keep them falling? Tripping them up 24/7? Yikes, that’s pressure. I’ve only got so many moves before I’m recycling dad jokes and hoping they’re too smitten to notice. My ex-wife, ex-girlfriends—they stopped falling. Maybe they landed and thought, “Eh, this place ain’t all it’s cracked up to be.” Or maybe I fell for something else—like the sweet relief of not falling anymore. Falling’s just motion, right? Toward someone, away from them, whatever. Point is, there’s no parking lot in Love Land—just a lotta running around.

Romantic love’s wild, sure. But then I stumble over this Bible verse at 1:30 a.m.—“God is love” (1 John 4:8). Hold up. God is love? Drop that bombshell into this falling-in-love circus and watch it explode. Suddenly, it’s not just about tripping over someone cute—it’s about falling into something bigger, steadier, and way less likely to leave you in the ER. Game changer. I’ll chew on that next time I’m up at 1:30. For now, keep falling, folks—fall right into God. Best landing spot there is.

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