Day Twenty-Five: Yearning
If you haven’t figured it out by now, I spent a lot of time as a single lady yearning for the day I’d finally find The One. Yes, I know it’s the twenty-first century and we women aren’t supposed to want a man, much less feel like we need a man, but I really don’t think that’s entirely fair. If women didn’t need men in some way and if men didn’t need women in some way, there would be no need for the sexes, and probably not even reproduction.
But I digress.
Some girls spend their grade school years writing “Mrs.” in front of their crush’s last name in their notebook, or contemplating their type of guy (ex. tall, olive skin, dark hair, muscularly lean, loves kids, works at a bank, makes a mean eggplant Parmesan). That just wasn’t me.
Like the iconic Snow White pictured above, I didn’t have a precise vision. Just for your reading pleasure, I’m including the lyrics to “Some Day My Prince Will Come.” That song seemed to take forever when I was a kid, but it’s actually quite short and simple.
Some day my prince will come
Some day we’ll meet again
And away to his castle we’ll go
To be happy forever I know
Some day when spring is here
We’ll find our love anew
And the birds will sing
And wedding bells will ring
Some day when my dreams come true
Literally all this chick wanted was the man meant for her. What was he going to look like? She didn’t care. What kind of car (uh, horse) did he have? She didn’t care. What was his annual income? Okay, maybe she did care about that, because she knows he’s a prince. Them boys ain’t destitute. So maybe she had a stipulation in the financial area of her love, but other than that, she wasn’t forming an “ideal” image of her husband in her head. She just wanted him to arrive. (Yeah, technically they’d already met earlier in the movie, but she knew he was the one for her and didn’t ask any questions.)
I can identify with that. When I look at the guys I’ve dated, I realize that I’ve never really had a type. Other than them all being pretty tall, they weren’t the same build, didn’t have the same color hair, didn’t have similar personalities or senses of humor, didn’t work remotely similar jobs. I didn’t know who my prince would be. All I knew was that when he was the right one, I’d know it.
Cory has an adorable little twang to his made-for-radio voice. (I don’t mean that condescendingly. It really is endearing.) The only way I can describe his walk is “relaxed swagger.” His hair isn’t simply brown, but it’s not simply blond, either. He’s dabbled in various occupations, but currently works as a welder. His dreams are big, bold and inspirational. He doesn’t fall over himself to shower me with affection, but he doesn’t fail to show me in his own way that he loves me.
There’s no way I can describe Cory, any more than any of us could effectively describe any of our loved ones to those who don’t know them as we know them. He’s not my type, but I never had one to begin with, so he’s exactly my type. All I know is that somewhere in our relationship, my old yearning stopped. The only yearning I have now is to be his wife.
Maybe as a woman in 2016 I’m not supposed to enjoy feeling like Snow White who has finally been united with her prince. But you know what, everyone is different. And if this 2016 woman is happy to need and want her man just as he needs and wants her, then I don’t think there’s a thing in the world wrong with that.