I'm Adalimone and this is the slowdown.

If you have ever had love turn on you, you know that even the sound of the word love

can be devastating or at least annoying.

I remember once after having my heart broken sitting in my drama class at the University

of Washington and after practicing a scene from Romeo and Juliet saying, I mean, if they

hadn't died, they would have broken up anyways.

A new friend laughed and I, in turn, told her how serious I was being.

I had gone from a full-on pedal to the metal believer in all things true love to a highly

cynical straight shooter in a matter of months.

During my cynical years, I wrote drafts of poems about how love was rather dumb, really.

I just trusted anyone who asked me out and tried to spew some romantic crap my way.

I was good at it, that being alone and being walled like a protected ancient city.

I felt better being skeptical and side-eyed than I did when I was open and willing to believe

any and all flirtatious banter tossed my way.

I knew who I was.

I was a house with a locked door.

It was safe in there.

My ribs made a nice cage for the beating heart that needed protection.

Of course, love did happen and it wasn't what I expected.

It wasn't what I had known before and on top of everything, it wasn't painful.

It was easy and kind.

I didn't know that kind of love, the one that wasn't mercurial and sometimes hurtful.

...