I’m The Man Who Loves You

A rare night out with friends. A Coke and a Budweiser. A Wilco song dedicated to me on the jukebox.

If I could you know I would just hold your hand and you’d understand I’m _____

I know. I’ve known since the first time he looked at me. You can’t not know that sort of thing, so yes, I’ve known since early December when I met him.

I see him watch me while we’re working. He pushes my buttons like a kindergartener with a first crush, remembers the important details, follows up for updates and news. He spends a lot of energy trying to make my day better, and in truth he does that for everybody. He was the only one who noticed that time when I was crying.

Here is a man on a career path, very much financially stable. Attractive, warm, funny, a man who sends money home and can’t wait to give his parents the gift of a vacation. Same age as me, at least 1000 things in common.

Here is a man who would never ignore a call or a text from me no matter what was happening in his life at that moment. He’s telling me he loves it when I brush my hair every time I take a break and he’s kissing me.

There is interest and admiration, so where then is the spark? Why can’t you insert the spark into the appropriate and promising situations of your life? Why is my spark basking in the sun thousands of miles away with a man who couldn’t be bothered to call me back? Why is it taking a ride on a tour bus headed down the I-5 for San Francisco? (more on that later)

This is not meant to be a commentary on either man’s faults or attributes. All three are spectacular specimens of the human race. I’m simply wondering why my heart doesn’t react to what is stable and easy. I still won’t go for the guy who has consistently shown me patience and attention, yet I hold out hope for the ones who can’t, or simply don’t, make me a priority.

This fortune cookie-like horoscope from early February has stayed with me and it’s on permanent repeat in my head right now:

Pay more attention to how you are treated by the people in your life… there could be important clues there to help you finally find the missing piece of the puzzle.

The idea that it boils down to self-esteem, that I don’t feel worthy of the guy who is “good” to me, depends on what one considers “good” to be. Stability tends to introduce boredom and, in my context, boredom is bad. So maybe it’s more about not settling for a lack of excitement. Perhaps I’m unconsciously protecting my freedom like men so often do. But if that’s what’s most important to me, it comes at a cost.

I still want to believe I can have it all – freedom, the spark and the guy who puts me first. Does that make me strong and brilliant or just lonely?

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