I wasted an entire year of my beautiful life crying over not getting what I wanted. All the verbal temper tantrums and crying rants only stole my appetite, ruined my chances of sleeping through the night and shattered my self esteem. I got my first taste of scary depression and lost my map to the silver linings that always get me through the hardest situations.
I lost myself in loving the wrong man and instead of shaking it off, I dug my heels in and fought for what wasn’t best for me. I am so painfully stubborn sometimes and for whatever reason, I made up my mind to have him one way or another… not thinking that the cost was too high and forgetting that women who chase men, only catch the slow ones.
Bless his heart, if nothing else, he sure helped me learn to masturbate effectively. I can burn through a few orgasms in a minute. He also healed some broken parts of me that I couldn’t reach. I was raped by someone with a beard when I was a teenager and the men in my life have always been slaves to the razor. Even the slightest stubble made me nauseous and I clearcut a million men from consideration purely for the fact they had whiskers. Falling in love with a bearded man took that fear away and I’m actually quite fond of them now. He taught me speak up, even when the words I needed to say were mortifying, laced with pain and hurtful. He made it impossible for me to settle for anything less than he inspired, which also took me out of the pool of douchebags I was always wading through. He broke my heart into a million pieces, but he also helped put it back together without the parts that made me so vulnerable to bad men. I will always love and appreciate him and hope he finds a woman that does the same things for him.
I closed the door on loving him and walked away, finally. It hurt, but it was necessary and LONG overdue. I cried over it for the millionth time, threw everything out that reminded me of him, returned all the presents I’d bought him for Christmas and made peace with being even sadder for a bit.
I posted some whiny shit on Facebook last week and a sweet treasure of a man I’ve known since childhood, dropped into my DM’s.
M- We should do something sometime?
J- I’d love to!
M- Really? Great! Saturday night? May I take you to dinner?
Just the simple sweetness of good intentions put a smile on my face for the entire day. It’s incredible to feel coveted after a year of second guessing everything about myself. I’d forgotten how much I do enjoy being pursued by a man with good intentions.
You know what he likes about me? My garden. My canning. My mothering.
He complimented the things he likes about me, not the physical shell my soul resides in. I’m as delighted as the next girl when a man I like tells me I’m pretty, but I’m twice as intrigued when it’s my character that counts most with him.
J- So where are you taking me?
M- Taco Bell.
J- Mmmmm…. I do love a crunchy supreme.
My sister jumped at the chance to babysit so there was no way out. I was damn excited and equally terrified. It’s been so long since I went on a date with a good man, I didn’t know what to do. I was trying to just breathe through the terror.
Driving to his house was somewhat scary because he’s got his shit together, he knows his way around the world and he wanted to show me a wonderful evening. With no expectations. That is precisely what I needed most.
Walking in to his house, I’m struck by how clean it is. Whoa. I’m going to need to hire a team of housekeepers before he can come over. It’s spotless, smells great and his smile was contagious enough that I was trying not to grin like an idiot.
M- I want to take you somewhere a little far away, do you trust me?
J- Yep, let’s go.
He opens doors. <swoon>
We got to the restaurant and the parking lot was icy. He reached out and grabbed my hand and I was stunned a little. Not aroused or excited, but safe. His hand dwarfed mine and I felt instantly protected. That’s a first.
He led me to the back of the building where a waterfall spilled quietly over the first snow of the season and showed me the pond where the fish were hiding at the bottom. I realized immediately that I was on one of those mythical magical dates I’ve read about but haven’t experienced first hand.
There was a holiday party going on and we sat at the bar beside another couple who quickly fell in love with the fact he’d driven so far to impress me on our first date. The adorable older man who owned the place sat down with us too and the night melted into laughter. The server handed us menus and I slid mine under his.
M- Are you really going to make me order for you?
J- I won’t make you do anything… but I want you to.
M- Alright, but don’t let me feed you something you don’t like, ok? Promise?
J- It’s a deal.
Steak…. and he ordered it medium rare. He chose scampi instead of breaded shrimp. Garden salad instead of coleslaw…. which is when the real challenge landed with a thud.
I know that a lot of people like ranch. I am not one of them.
M- Oh my…. let me see. I think bleu cheese. Yeah?
I’m delightfully pleased and he’s beaming back as I nod my head yes. He’s enchanted that I like the same beer. I’m absolutely happy just to sit and laugh with him.
We closed the restaurant and he drove home asking as much about me as he shared in return without laying a finger on me. Pulling into his driveway I knew I had to get my ass in my own car and leave immediately. All that romance and easy conversation had gone to my head a little and if I knew one thing for certain, it was that I wanted to do this again. You can’t unwrap them on the first date if you want to inspire them to keep you. It’s just the way it is. I wanted to, so I thanked him profusely and he opened my door to help me out.
A hug… and I’m struck by the fact that he’s the first tall man I’ve ever dated. It turns out that I might be a height girl because I like how small and feminine he inspires me to feel.
A kiss that lit the fuse on those fireworks I love so much. Thanks be to God. I probably would have cried right then and there if it was bad. I was shocked and pleased by the reality.
A dozen more dates lined up, he wakes me up with sweet words and is the last to wish me sweet dreams at night. He asks every day if he can see me and frankly… I can’t wait until that’s a thing.
But for now? I’m enjoying the experience and breathing in all the sweet serenity that comes with good intentions. I’m not in any rush to do anything but find out more things I like about him…. including the fact that he helps his mama can her garden harvest every year.
Good men do exist… and I just might keep this one. ♥