He has been gone for 31 days now. I'm not counting; I actually had to pause to look at the calendar... Well, I remember the day he left, and I know today's date…He is coming back before 15th March he says. I don't know why I've thought of him today, more than I have ever done since we met. And they were not only thoughts of him as my boyfriend, but him as a man too. The man who is not scared to go after what he wants, even if he had to sacrifice things in his life to get that one thing that he so desires. The man who is so loyal to his friends that when he promises to be there to pick up people he does not know just coz his pal asked him to from the airport and show them round Africa, he does that. Make no mistake, he is no doormat - he is loyal. The man who makes promises he will keep. So much so that he got in trouble with me for keeping a promise he had made to a woman he'd met before me.
He is a man all right, annoying yet superbly male. Maddening yet exciting. Exasperating yet stimulating. You know, the painfully evident maleness that we love and love to hate. Like letting out air from any possible opening and thinking it's all right, maybe, who knows, they still think it's cool. But at the same time, admire the courage and the confidence they have within them to be able to actually do that in front of us without blinking. The familiarity they have to be uncouth and still expect to be loved unconditionally and still want to wear the King of Our Hearts mantle. The coming home drunk and thinking that they have never smelt better and they have never been a better lover that them at that point in time, which happens to be around 3 am. Prodding and probing till they think they have hit bull's eye, which almost all the time is 5 inches away from the real eye.
Don't get me wrong, He has not reached this level yet, but I know a couple of years down the line, he is. How do I know? B'coz no matter how different they are out there, deep down, it's a male gene thing. We have jerks, bastards and self-acclaimed gentlemen, but a couple of years with the woman of their (wet) dreams, they trail a certain code of conduct that can be somewhat traced to The Flintstones. And the beauty of it all, we love to take care of these lovely crude princes in decaying behavioral armor and manners that would make 3 year olds cringe.
I've been thinking of all the other men I know and how much shyte I'd prepared to take from them, how much I'd be willing to stomach. Truth be told, not very many sniffed the finishing line. And that wok me up to the realization of what love (that strong feeling we have about a person) can make you overlook. I mean if a man farted in front of me that would be the end of any mushy thoughts I'd have had for him. But even when we meet them for the first time, and to your awe-struck minds they seem like the beat thing ever since sliced bread, at the back of our minds, we know that later, in the not s distant future, comfortability sets in and out goes the fresh air. I've picked farting coz it's uncouth yes, but it's the last in the group of crudeness.
Having listed the thing I admire in a man (ha ha), I miss mine. Badly.