*I highly recommend playing the video at the bottom of the page while reading*
First, I would like to say, for the few who graciously share their time reading my thoughts, I owe you the world, thank you for sharing your time and I owe you a debt of gratitude for helping me through my healing process.
I am not a professional writer. I am not a motivational speaker. I am nothing more than a regular guy who has been blessed to connect with so many others during a musical escape. I take no credit for being anything more and whatever level of achievement I have with you, the reader, in your heart, I am truly grateful, in every way possible.
Being a man who is not the "look at me" type of character, there is (as many have already read) a constant battle between the ability to perform this blog without the feeling of "screaming for attention" and the actual connection with others enjoy my warped and colorful thoughts. This day, while preparing to type down a new diatribe, I finally realized fully, no matter how much I may despise the words "I", and "me", when it comes to life/social media, approach the first person position is almost unavoidable on a blog, so, on this particular writing, I intend to embrace the format fully and I hope you as the reader might appreciate this as a one on one conversation (fingers crossed) more than a simple "talking at" type of format because the answer is/was an actual conversation from last night.
So, here goes nothing:
Last night, during another insomniac moment of altruism, I had a friend named Brandy ask me a simple but beautiful and introspective question that I would like to share with all of you now. She asked me: "what is it you want from a woman?" After a moment of pause, I stated: "I want a clingy woman, where we have each other's number." Brandy looked at her phone, confused, like when you are looking for a road sign direction and nothing is labeled. I am sure my friend took the off-the-cuff comment as another moment of maddening "ANGEL-ism" ridiculousness. To her credit, she fired back with the statement: "you are going to have to explain that further, Mr., and me and Joel are not letting you off the hook on that one!" As our text messages faded into the night like passing ships on the electronic sea, I am sure Brandy thought I was avoiding the answer. Truth be told, I was, to be honest.
Self-reflection when it comes to the topic of love is an avoidance topic for widows/widowers and, I, unfortunately, am no exception to the rule, but to my dear, non romantic but happily married friend Brandy, I did not forget my promise to actually give you an answer. I woke up this morning (after like 3 hours of sleep) motivated to give you a final answer, so, my dear, this is for you and hubby, bro-fist Joel:
What is a clingy woman where we have each others number?
"I would like to find a woman who loves me, unabashed, where you live for each other in the sense that you are two hearts beating as one. The kind of love where you know each others thoughts and needs like the back of your hand. The type of woman who looks at you with love as you do her, she hangs on your arm, whispers in your ear, that kiddie kind of sh*t. A gentle soul, female, loving, where you take care of her as a man should, in every way and she loves you more for it, unspoken, affectionate, beautiful, deep, endearing.
Worth more than gold, more than ego, more than personal bullshit. The type of love where she proclaims to her friends: "that's my man" and loves the world we create moment to moment, even more than she loves chocolate (which for a woman is monumental, j/k). It's the type of love where you have each other's number, know each others thoughts, know each others hearts, ask each other if you ate today, ask each other what you did today, give her the window seat on the plane, make him dinner from the heart and swing your arms hand in hand while walking in the sunset.
The type of love where nothing or no one could ever come between the two of you because that is true love, a bond, a place only two occupy and although you live in a world with others, the island of two is where you would rather be stranded. Yes, the current culture wants the sexes to separate or feel guilty for wishing for such a thing as true love but love, in its truest form, does not give two shits about the world or its agenda, because simply, true love conquers all.
That is what I mean by "a clingy woman where we have each others number" and to come out of retirement, that is what is necessary to open my heart again, because, simply, to me, that is what love is meant to be. I have my kids. I have my work. I have my art. That is what I would want from love, and I am "bullheaded" about it...
When my wife died, it was the hugest blow ever dealt to my life because, simply, she was the universe, the moon and the stars that I built my life around. I witnessed heaven and earth through her eyes. I built my worth in her smile and I was proud of that. I like that feeling. I liked living for someone who lived for me, in the old school way of love, true, unabashed, committed. Anything less is just that. Although I would never compare a new love with the old, it is hard to not hold the resume up and compare. It is hard to date, open up, share when you already know that phase is bullshit because true connection is immediate and lasting. So, I pick up the pieces of my broken heart and move forward, because that is all we can do, in the face of tragedy, however, I learned much during my time on that island and I will never, ever, never, ever, never ever forget her or the lessons I learned about my old school heart, and yes, tears while writing about it and listening to Adele sing her ass off."
To Brandy and Joel,
I hope this answers the question adequately, I love you.
To everyone else,
Thank you for reading. I understand that I am not a hot 18 year old girl with craziness to say in some self-serving blog madness where I promote products and take "mad selfies" but my hope and intent from this scarred heart is that maybe we all can find some answers, wisdom, salvation and love in some way, shape or form from this drivel I call written stream of conscious....
That is all I have to say about that.
Time for coffee.
Adele, take it away my dear...