There’s a man I know. He’s strikingly handsome, in a dark kind of way, with a Romantic brow, a perfect nose, and cheekbones as high as mountains. I found him quickly in a crowd the first time I saw him. He wears his hair long and has two piercings in each ear, radical to some people, but it does nothing to detract from the elegance he exudes. It adds to it, in my view. I love to watch him move. He has such an odd, awkward grace about him. He was born to be a male model.
This man I know is generous with himself and his time, which is so much more important than being generous with money. He is patient and caring. His need to understand me is sincere and wonderful. He loves my dog, even though he’s allergic. That means a lot. This man is full of passion. He is an idealist, an optimist, with the formidable analytic powers to identify the root problems and the logical prowess to address them. He will do amazing things in his lifetime, and I want to be there for all of them.
This man believes that I, too, will do amazing things. He expects me only to be myself and do what I love, distinct from any social dictum. I expect the same of him. This is incredibly refreshing. After so many relationships that failed because one of us was not what society told us they would be, we are finally deciding who we are for ourselves, and we love each other.
This man and I do not believe in fate, though, since circumstances have given us three chances, perhaps we should. It’s almost comical now to think that I could have ever ended up with someone else. I tried, certainly, but when you have to avoid someone because you know you’ll fall in love if you don’t and the time’s just not right, the game is pretty much already over. You’ve won; it’s okay to believe it.
This man and I don’t speak in absolutes, but I will say that I absolutely love him.
Happy Valentine’s Day, Matt.