I spent a long time thinking relationships should be the variety my parents have — a polite, comfortable, solid, long-term, come hell or high water kind of love.
When I got married I thought I was signing up for one of those kinds of relationships. We were friends, we lived in the same house, we didn’t really fight (until the end) and there was a comfortable familiarity knowing we would stay together till death us do part.
But something was wrong. There was an emptiness that couldn’t be filled by travelling the world, succeeding at work, sculpting my body into a size eight or being able to buy whatever I wanted. I never felt as though I belonged, I never connected with another human being.
Now I seek love.
I seek the man who will:
— love me when I am irrational, emotional and chaotic
— hold me when I cry, when I laugh, and when I am angry
— delight in my flesh, my brain, and my ambition
— take what I have to give with amazement that I would give it to him
— kiss me without needing anything more and as the prelude to more
— know my body’s response to touch better than I know myself
— breathe me
— hold my vulnerability in his hands and allow nothing to wound it
— tell me I am beautiful, amazing, inspiring, funny and smart
— live in the moment never taking for granted that we’ll be together tomorrow
— meet me with his heart, his body and his mind
— make love with me, fuck me, play with me, snuggle with me, sleep with me
— let me go and make me stay
— stand in the midst of a hurricane and let it pass right through him
And I thank the Universe I have found him.
Don’t settle for comfortable.
Don’t ignore the emptiness.