Look! Another time-bombed entry! I must really love you guys. It’s 2:21 a.m. on Thurs nite/Fri morning, and you’ll see this post on Sunday. So if it’s Sunday and you’re reading this, I’ll be back from the cruise with Mr. W tomorrow morning!

I dug this out in the earlier packing/cleaning (this is why it takes me so long to clean my room or rid myself of old junk — too much reminiscing):

I want a guy who knows what he has when he has me
I want a guy who feels he’ll love me for eternity
I want his eyes to soften when he looks into mine
Content to have me near while he reads and sips his wine
He’ll love me for enhancing his already beautiful life
He’ll love the dark I bring to his light
He’ll appreciate the reinforcement I am to his strength
Does not need (me) but chooses me to be his bane
I want to love and lavish without fear
Release him to go and welcome him back with no tear
I want to give him my world and sleep softly at his side
Be his girl forever and his woman when the time is right.

6am Thurs., 7-24-03

I don’t really remember writing this altho I can relate to the almost desperate desire for someone who’d protect me, love me, and bring me peace especially at that time in my life, but what throws me is the middle of the piece, in which I seem to write myself as the destruction of this great guy’s great life, and yet the guy loves me in spite of and through all of that. Why did I feel like I’d be the guy’s vulnerability, the Achilles heel that he has attached his heart to? Was it low self-esteem? Or maybe I was just making the point tongue-in-cheek that altho the guy’s fine without me or any girlfriend, he chooses to keep me in his life with all my dark sarcasm and the inevitable relationship fights. It really does read like Mr. W — he’s said over and over that he wouldn’t change a thing about me. “What about my crabby PMS-ness?” I asked him the other day. He replied that that’s but a small manageable inconvenience outweighed by all the joy I bring to him.

Happy (1-day early) birthday to the man of my dreams, the heart’s desire fantasy come to life, the exact personification of what I’d scripted almost exactly 4 years ago to the day. Well, except he sips martinis instead of wine.