How do you know you’ve met “the one?” I mean, is that even a thing anymore? The One?
I’m talking about the peanut butter to your jelly…the up to your down…the sun to your shine…the ebony to your ivory…the salt to your pepper…your soul mate…your perfect match…your other half…the missing piece to your puzzle…the one who is said to “complete” you.
How do you know they’ve made their entrance, stage left and are ready to take their role?
Are there fireworks in your brain? Are there googly eyes and unicorns and rainbows? Is there music playing?
I mean, I’m going full romantic comedy here but really…I’m asking for a friend.
Fun Fact: I don’t pick the best male partners.
I’m pretty sure my parents would agree with this statement. My track record is a bit questionable. And I guess I use the word “partner” very loosely.
From the stage where I stand right now, I see my twisted dating journey so clearly. I see the lack of self worth, low self esteem, and loss of control. It’s so clear to me why I turned into Richard from Saturday Night Live–“I do it myself!” Once my marriage ended, I took control. Out of both necessity and desire.
Since my divorce, I’ve been on an I-am-woman-hear-me-roar kick. Full-on look-at-my-independence, I-can-do-this-myself, step-to-the-side-please, single mom pedestal. I’ve told y’all about my “I-don’t-need-you-I-want-you” perspective on relationships.
Enter Mister, stage left.
I wasn’t even prepared for his entrance. Matter of fact, his entrance came below the radar of my heart due to the time and head space I was occupying. Even saying that, though, I can identify exactly how I felt when I first met him.
No fireworks. No music. No googly eyes. Ok, maybe googly eyes. But I knew. I could feel it in my bones. This man is my person.
But the timing wasn’t right. I wasn’t ready to have the right thing yet.
Fast forward. Two years later. The land has been claimed. The flags have been captured. The label has been given.
Scary? Yes. Intimidating? Yes! Worth it? YES!
My 20-year-old self wasn’t ready for this type of love. My 30-year-old self couldn’t have handled the way he looks at me. My 34-year-old self wouldn’t have let him take care of me. But my 35-year-old self? She’s ready. She’s ready for that soul-touching, top-shelf love.
It makes me a little sad to think that I was missing this. It hurts my heart to know that I could have been experiencing this selfless love way sooner. It baffles me that I thought I didn’t want this or, worse, didn’t deserve this.
But I DO deserve this. Everyone deserves this. Every person out there should feel this crazy, unexplainable happiness. Everyone should smile uncontrollably and giggle for no reason. Everyone should connect on a level so deep that no words need to be spoken. Everyone deserves to KNOW that someone loves them; to feel it way down deep. Everyone should be so confident and secure in a relationship that no fears or worries or doubts exist. Everyone. Deserves. This. This happiness. This connection. This trust. This support. This love.
So, y’all get you a man who sees down to your soul when he looks at you. Get you someone who makes it hard to lock eyes with because of the butterflies he gives you. Get you someone who’s main objective is your comfort and happiness. Get you one who cleans up when your kid (not his) throws up in the middle of the night. Get you one who has your car detailed while you’re out. Get you one who lays in bed and watches the church service. Get you one who shows you off. Get you one who can’t keep his eyes off of you. Get you one who makes you feel loved. Get you one who wants nothing from you…except you.
Cause y’all….I got me one of those. And I’m riding first-class on this train.