Her

Art by the wonderful @ashaoguant60501

Today is not last week. Today is not yesterday. I sit here, trying to follow the old routine that I fell into a long time ago and I just can't do it any more. The call of my muse is too strong, and I must write.

Today, it's about Her.

She is the ideal woman, an amalgamation of the all the positive traits from women I've met over the years: my mother, my sisters, my cousins and aunts and grandmothers. My friends, my classmates, my coworkers, my former lovers. Her perfection is otherworldly, all positives and no negatives. She is who I yearn for, who I long for, and who I've sadly neglected for far too long.

Every man in the world knows Her, despite being different for each and every one of us. Even as you read this, you're picturing Her in your head. Long hair or short, blonde or brunette (mine is a redhead), tall or short, white or black or Asian, it doesn't matter. She is perfect in features and personality.

She is the measure I use (or ignore at my own peril) when judging women as a potential future wife. It's not the best of measures, as love is never logical. The heart wants what the heart wants, much to my dismay, and holding up a ruler next to the cute girl you're sitting across a table from in a café by the beach as she laughs at your dumb joke is the last thing on your mind (we're only thinking "She's beautiful", if you're wondering, and scarcely a thought more).

I have used Her as a measure before, though, mainly in retrospect. She marks my level of regret, either over stupid mistakes leading to the loss of a good woman and potential wife or a lustful mistake that, while fun in the moment, was never destined to be anything more than that.

There were three who met the mark for me, ten years ago this year and one after another, but each were not meant to be. They were, in order "should've, would've, could've". I pray they all are doing well with men that treat them better than I did.

There were several that did not meet the mark, and I ignored that thought. Despite it all, I pray each of them are doing well with men that treat them better than I did.

But this isn't about them. This is about Her. She is perfect in every way, in ways that no actual woman could ever be. As a measure, it's not about matching Her standards but by coming as close as possible. I strongly encourage all men to develop their own image of Her, but I warn you to not require the woman you fall in love with to be Her. Your woman never will be Her, and that is unfair to your woman. Your woman will be flawed, just as you are, but she will be close enough and more importantly, she will love you. That will be enough.

To be honest, I've forgotten about Her for longer than I'd like to admit. Closing my heart and writing myself off seemed to be the safest path forward in life. I told myself that love was a younger man's game. I'm too old, too jaded, too cowardly, too unambitious, too afraid of betrayal to love properly again. Life hit me with a perfect 1-2 punch from 2017 to 2021 and I just gave up.

I focused on that darkness, and that became my reality. I fell into a safe routine. Gym, work, maybe errands on the way home, then home and distracting myself with baseless hobbies until I fell asleep and repeated the whole thing over again. Weekends were spent at home. It was measured, it was safe, it was boring, but there was no chance of betrayal. No chance of a broken heart. No chance of experiencing the things that make life worth living.

I told myself that love was foolish. If God had a wife for me, she was gone, lost, never to be found. Or worse, she was out there and I would never be good enough for her. A woman of her caliber deserves a man better than I, I thought, and it would've been a cruel punishment from God to force her to be married to a man as pathetic as me. The self-deprecation was my shield, but also my prison.

Now, today, I'm the same man. Too old, too jaded, too cowardly, too unambitious, too afraid of betrayal to love properly again. But I don't care. Those flaws of mine are worth getting over for Her. She's... She's just worth it. I lack the words to explain it. She just is.

I saw Her today, for the first time in a long time.

I saw Her in my daydreams. I came home and said "Honey, I'm home!" to an empty apartment, knelt down and picked up my imaginary children as they yelled "Daddy's home!" and kissed them both. I looked across an empty room as She walked up to me and I kissed Her, our two imaginary kids in my arms grossed out that Daddy and Mommy are kissing. I talked to myself as I made dinner for one, discussing my day with Her and asked Her about Her day. I sat down in front of my computer and said grace, then looked to Her and our imaginary children as they ate beside me at the dinner table we were sitting at. Tonight, I will crawl into bed and pull the blankets over me, holding a pillow tight as my little spoon. She will be there to kiss me good night and settle in, safe in my arms after another day, and She will be there in the morning when I wake up and get ready for the gym, kissing me good morning and getting ready for Her day.

She is real again. I cannot help but weep tears of happiness as I did this and I write this. I thought She was gone but She's here and I thank God above for all of this coming from a R63 Malfoy. It's ridiculous and crazy and shouldn't work like this, but that's just how love works, much to my pleasant chagrin.

One day, as soon as God permits, She will be gone again, but this time it will be because my wife will be real, my children will be real, and I will not need to daydream. She will have served Her purpose and fade away because She has been surpassed by my wife in the one way that matters most: my wife is real, and She is not. My wife will have flaws, as we all do, as I do, but she will be here and she will love me. She could never do that, as She is nothing more than a figment of my imagination, and thus She will pale in comparison to my wife.

Until then, I will continue to work out, continue to grow my skills at work, continue to develop my passions, and continue to work on my own little business idea. This fire burning in my chest again makes me restless. I want to be productive. I need to be productive. I had no plans on writing for the rest of the week but I cannot control myself. There's so much to do and I've lost so much time. Years of my life that I could've spent with my wife and kids, wasted on despair and self-loathing. But no more. I need to get to work.

I'll do it for Her... and for her, my future wife.