Fuck my head hurts and the coffee is burning this morning. Never a good sign. A very close girlfriend of mine recently returned to Austin after being gone for a while. I've missed her a great deal. Last night, I met her and two other women at her cool new pad, the plan was to go out after a drink at her place. We never left the house.
The four of us sat around and talked about everything under the sun. Food, parents, grandparents, our careers, old people...as the wine flowed, the conversation became rowdier and the topics switched to love, death, psychics, politics and the state of the economy...and as more wine flowed, the conversation became much more intimate and we discussed sex and relationships. It was a blast and I respect all of these intelligent women so very much.
Of course, we discussed all the details of my personal life (it was a short conversation). We discussed the ones that had been all wrong and why, we discussed the one that could be right but must not be, and we discussed the ones that I've summarily dismissed without real opportunity. Eventually, one of the women asked me if I knew what I wanted. If I genuinely, distinctly and honestly knew what I wanted.
Of course I do. And there are many men in my life that personify some of those characteristics.
I want the intelligence and sarcasm of my favorite general surgeon. I also admire his integrity. I want a man that loves big toys, water, and wine and food the way Dad does, with the work ethic my father has that made all those expensive toys possible. I want the guy that rolls the way Marky Mark does - he greases palms so slickly you never see it happen, while he makes anything and everything happen. As for Po, well - I want the guy that accepts me the way he does. I want the guy that trusts me the way he does. And I want the guy that's always up for absolutely anything the way he is. Then there's the tidbits: Soccer Boy's sweetness, Mimzy's humor, the wisdom and openness of a certain CRNA that I don't have a suitable nickname for, and the combined kindness and fortitude of my Uncle. As if that weren't enough, I want it all wrapped up in a pretty package, perfectly embodied by a certain anesthesiologist (and no, it's probably not the one your thinking of). To my mind, he's the most perfect physical specimen that has ever walked the face of the Earth - a face that looks like a Hellenic sculpture, a body that brings me to my knees every time I see him at the gym, blue/gray sparkling eyes, and a perfect bow of a mouth...ahhh...even his hair graying around the temples and thinning so noticeably on top charms me...no, he's not perfect, but I look at him and see nothing but (I'm sure his wife appreciates his beauty as much. No really.).
Of course, you've likely noticed that something major is missing from this little list, and it's something I've been thinking about a great deal lately. The subject of the story "Control" embodies the rest of it so nicely. I've never told the reasons he was wrong for me, only the reasons I was wrong for him and I intend to keep it that way. We were doomed from day one, but there's so very much that I miss about him.
I miss his honesty and sweet nature. I miss the way he'd come to pick me up and kiss me before exchanging a single word. After a perfect kiss (he'll always be the one that others are compared to in that regard, I'm certain of it) he'd look me in the eyes and say, "Hi". So cute. I loved how attentive he was to my needs, and how when I was triathlon training and burning an extra 1200 calories a day he'd bring me food, knowing I'd forget to eat. I loved how, when I had the thorn in my paw, he'd come over and ice my foot, feed me, then carry me to bed. I loved how, when my ex was being an idiot, he didn't get bent out of shape, he simply shook his hand and introduced himself. I loved how, when I'd be all fired-up about something, ranting and raving with my hands flying as I told him the story, he'd listen until I was finished then say, "You're so cute." But most of all, I loved how he had discovered the balance, the perfect balance between being present and giving me space, between being sweet and aggressive as all hell, between sexual and sensual.
I've met men that have come close. But I can't hold onto fantasy. I have to let it go. I'll keep this snapshot of perfection in my mind, and I won't settle for someone that doesn't give me goosebumps again, but the fantasy...I release it. Nah, that's a lie. I'll never let it go.
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