One of the men I have fallen deeply in love with was the last person I would have ever thought I would say "I am in love with you" to.
He was a lawyer.
He was shorter than me and if God forbid I wore high heels I could actually see his early-bald head underneath my chin.
There was NOTHING attractive about his face or body.
Yet I could stare in his gentle eyes for hours.
I would watch his gorgeous smile and listen to his laugh with my senses wrapped in ecstasy.
There was something absolutely magical about him: everytime I was near him it was electric, I swear. I felt like I was near the source energy of God himself, like all the warmth, kindness and understanding were hidden underneath his skin.
I remember one evening when I called and asked him to come by only to put his hand on my stomach.
And he did.
Everytime he touched me I felt peace and connected.
I was craving his touch. It was addictive.
I saw myself married to him.
Well, so I did with absolutely ALL of my boyfriends. If you could somehow enter my head, you would find over 20 different marriages in 20 different parallel universes.
You could find me there as the obedient wife of my first love from highschool, the wife of a chuby dentist traveling the world together, the wife of a bosnian nomad, the wife of a chuby blonde Croatian traveling the world and dancing together, the wife of a blonde Lithuanian sharing a life of jokes and laughter, the wife of a sun-kissed shrink from Jordan, the wife of a shy Italian model, the wife of a vulcanic Serbian, the wife of a DJ, the wife of a photographer, the wife of a Lebanese sword fighter, the wife of a jew doctor, the wife of a restaurant owner, the wife of a long-haired architect, the wife of an unfaithful corporate guy, the wife of a spanish lawyer, the wife of... oh Jesus, I lost track of my marriages!
Yet, except my highschool love, the only one who got my feelings on a plate was this guy. I pictured us like Harry and Charlotte and I would have been glad to dive in a life where his voice would be my alarm clock in the morning.
I remember calling him recently. The moment he picked up the phone time just stopped.
There is something soothing and calming about his voice that made me want him to talk to me for hours.
I know I am demanding and when I fall in love I want to watch, listen, inhale, taste and touch my lover with all of my body.
That's why I am terribly jealous and I wouldn't be surprised if I got locked up one day due to a ''crime of passion'' after some unfortunate bitch happened to look at my love the wrong way or longer than permitted.
Yet the thing that sweeped me off my feet was his strong and clear perspective on life towards family.
He was born and raised in a round family where the parents took their commitment seriously and THAT made out of him the best character I have ever met in my life.
His patience towards my stormy feelings, his understanding towards my crazy emotions and outbursts of passion is exactly what any woman could be looking for.
He was never agressive, never angry, never mad and never applied the silent treatment.
Well, only when we were on the finish line.
It took me some months to get over him after the breakup and a while after that I wrote him a heart felt email in which I thanked him for his patience and kindness towards my childish scenes and mood swings.
He understood my passion and was never bothered if I acted like an impossible-to-be-tamed-shrew.
He was there no matter what.
Unless the weekends and friday evening which he spent with his family.
That used to drive me crazy but also made me admire him even more and bow with respect to the values I learned at home as well.
I hope he's fine.
I know he's fine.
I still check his instagram and tend to copy his captions style on my posts.
Damn... what a MAN.
Patient and strong like a rock.
p.s.: if you ever read this... I am sorry for ruining your gradebook with the heels of my stilletos. I was jealous and I loved you.