Marriage was a choice I thought long and hard about. It was definitely something I wanted.
There were certain things I wished for and other things were a must.
Every guy I ever liked, or crushed on or dated always came into play. You marry who you date, you date who you marry.
Even back in grade school, I knew what I wanted. The tall dark and handsome knight in shining armor. Wouldn't hurt if he rode a white charger (not - I'd take a black stallion any day) either.
Taller than me, so I could lean into his shoulder. Perfect hugging, holding, dancing height.
Deep, dark eyes I could lose myself in. The color didn't matter, just so long as there was something to them, real depth. Green, I liked green and brown and deep blue...
Dark curly hair I could tangle my fingers in. Not so curly they'd get stuck, just enough wavy to make heart flutter. Hair, yes hair was a must. Lots of hair.
Smile that could melt an iceberg. Warm (good for cuddling up to) funny (laughter makes everything better) Smart (nothing worse than an empty headed pretty boy)
I wanted someone who would "get" me. Could understand my crazy heart and wandering mind. I needed someone I could commit to and get lost in completely. Someone who would be my very best friend and light that friendship on fire. Someone who would protect me and watch out for me and be with me, no matter what. I wanted to be some one's first choice. I played allot of second fiddle. I wanted someone who thought I was amazing and couldn't compare to anyone else - in the good way. I wanted to be some one's lottery. The first and foremost. The last thought at night, first thought in the morning, and dreaming about all night long. It's what I would be doing, can't I have the same in return? Delusions of grandeur? So came the list.
These are not all that unrealistic expectations. Perfect isn't that far off. Is it? Don't I deserve that? I mean really.
I dated allot. Other than being a whole lot of fun, it was much easier to get along with guys, than petty silly girls. I liked being nice and being true to myself. Not many girls around me felt the same way.
To them it was always about the latest conquest. What they could get a guy to do for them in exchange for small favors. Cat and mouse. It made me sick. Those stupid games.
Each guy taught me something I wanted or didn't. Fun was important. So was passion. I was NOT going to have a smoker. It's like licking an ashtray. I don't care what else he has going for him or what car he drives, that is a deal breaker. Though the car thing does bring up an interesting point. For certain cars, I could careless about the driver. All of them foreign - Italian mostly, and the Vanquish.
Oh it is a very good thing I didn't cross paths with many sports cars. The right car was a back door past any of my moral inclinations. I would have hopped in the backseat or front seat in a second. That was not something to let anyone of them know about. Nope, do not let on about the car thing - EVER. Like the snake thing - No one knew that either.
Smoking though was still a deal breaker, no matter what the car or Bike.
So is the wussy, soggy-faced frog kisser. Put some passion into it buddy. Kissing is an art form not a lilly-padded, pond dunking. Use your hole mouth, brush your teeth, try a breath mint, or gum. Kissing is an participation, action sporting event. You're supposed to get all riled up and into it. Weather its prune, peach, apricot, or alfalfa. Give it your all.
I thought allot about this.
It surprised me to learn that I wasn't alone. Watching, waiting, protecting.
Even when I was alone, I was never on my own.
Only at night could I see that.
A/N: just edited update. Will get to more soon, promise.