My Dream Man

The man of my dreams is a married man. A man who created a life with another woman as I sat idly by knowing full well that I was better suited. Within the first year of their marriage they decided to have a baby. Hailey is now 4 years old. Beautiful, thriving, and as goofy as they come; she reminds me so much of her father. As his future wife exclaimed they were pregnant through Facebook years ago, a twinge of regret filled my heart on this subject. Yet, idly I continued to stand by.  Years and years pass, with almost little to no contact. His wife didn’t approve of our friendship any longer, feeling as if I was a threat and doing what she could to remind me he was not mine. Every so often they would have a falling out and he’d contact me. What do I do? I would give it my best to comfort him and give him the advice he needed, as unbiased as I could. Years and years of watching this incredible man fall, and rise and fall again. All at the whims of this girl. How many times did I just cry for him, wishing I had taken him years ago. Fifteen years ago to be exact. I watched this man stop doing the things he loved, I watched this man bust his ass to provide and he still felt unappreciated. I watched as she took advatange of his work and invite other guys over, I watched as she cheated on him with his own family members. Yet he stayed. Its the right thing to do, he would mumble, we have a daughter together. Id wrap my arms around him in a big hug and assure him he was right. I would cry hysterically on my way home. No amount of time with him was ever enough. The way my stomach hurt from all the laughter, his smile, and the way his eyes lit up; i could never get enough. 

The man of my dreams is a married man. As I lay here next to him, fifteen years too late, I can’t help but wonder if I will be enough to make him remember happiness. I wonder every day what could have been. Those words cut through my heart like a freshly sharpened machete. The hurt oozes from my eyes like the blood I feel is draining from my heart. Even months after his seperation, divorce is on the horizon but I long for its anchor in our harbor. Does he really think about what could have been with their marriage as he lays next to me? Does he wish I was her in some way? I have done what I can to make his smile reappear, but what if that’s not enough? What if my make shift family washes away in the currents of his hurt? I wish he had never said he wished he had married me long ago, for when he says he thinks of what could have been, I’m not in that picture. I am not his wife. 

The man of my dreams is a married man, and as I lay next to him, I wish I was her. I wish I was the woman he’d forever have in his heart. I want his hurt to stop, if even just for a minute. I wish I was concrete enough to make him want to make the phone calls, to stand up for how she made him feel, to not comfort her when that’s what she wants. I want the man of my dreams as my own. I want him to have the confidence to say to the world, I am her’s and she is mine. These words, so simple, so devastating. I will always care, but the love we had, is no longer what it was. Is it true? If it was, wouldn’t it be voiced? I ache for it to be known that I am forever, if that’s what this is. I’ll lie awake in wonder if that day will ever come to exist. 

My dream man is a married man. One that has stood by my side for fifteen years even when he wasnt physically there. This man has listened to soba over countless other men, watching as I self distruct mulitple occasions. How many times did this man drive an hour to see me for ten minutes? Our love is different than anything I’ve ever known. The terrifying fact is, he has every capability of destroying everything I am. One final blow and who I have worked so hard to be would be buried. With a love like that, you’d be afraid to lose it too. A long so ancient, so strong, not even marriage could stand it. 


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