I have a secret...
In the spirit of honesty, I’m going to open up the kimono and let you see into this very personal, and rarely talked-about corner of my heart.
You may never hear a guy (at least not a single guy) openly admit this again, so pay close attention.
Us guys, we like to be in love.
As a matter of fact, we love it.
And, sometimes, just like girls, we get our hearts broken.
We feel alone, and hurt. We just don’t like to talk about it. At all.
We’re supposed to be strong. We’re supposed to remain silent. We are men.
It's not acceptable for us to curl up in our PJs with a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Chunky Monkey ice cream, and watch a gushy chick flick where, despite all the hardship and drama, everything works out in the end.
We don’t get to call our moms and go get mani-pedis, as we recover over a mountain of french fries and extra large Diet Cokes.
We don’t even get to cry.
Standard protocol is to “suck it up.”
Be a man!
In worst-case-scenarios, a broken heart calls for a Guys Night full of mind-numbing sessions of Halo, while chugging Mountain Dew and eating cheap $5 pizza.
The only real conversation on nights like this (other than the profanities that only Halo can inspire) revolves around insulting and degrading the girl you probably still hold so dear to your heart.
Deep inside, what we really want (and when I say “we,” I mean “I”... but I truly hope I’m not alone in this) is a simple, storybook kind of love.
You know the kind I’m talking about.
It’s the love where I can’t sleep through the night, because I keep waking myself up to make sure she’s still there and that I wasn’t really dreaming... because it feels like a dream to have her there next to me.
It’s the kind of love that has me running out the door after work just to get home and smother her in kisses, and present her that bouquet of wildflowers that I hand-picked on the side of the freeway because they reminded me of her.
I’m trying to find the girl who can talk to me about books that we read together, and not who got cut from The Bachelor this week.
I’m desperate for the girl who pushes me to pursue my dreams and become the best version of myself... and a girl who has dreams of her own.
I yearn for the day that I come home from work to discover her dressed in one of my baggy t-shirts, and a pair of old, tattered jeans with paint on her exhausted face and hair pulled back into a simple ponytail.
She explains to me that she woke up that morning and thought the living room just needed a change.
I want to spend my weekends waking up early to embark on scavenger hunts at farmers markets, garage sales, and music stores... watching her hunt for the perfect little treasure that will complete or inspire her next big project.
I want to open her doors, hold her hand, travel the world, and run to the store late at night to buy her tampons.
I want to watch romantic comedies, and have her realize at the end that I’m her prince charming, or her knight in shining armor. And together, despite the struggles (maybe even because of them), we’ve got it better than any fairy tale.
I want to dance in the kitchen at 2:00 in the morning, and kiss her flat on the mouth after telling her I’m sorry for proving her wrong.
Just kidding... she’ll never be wrong.
I want to be in love. You know... that can't-eat, can't-sleep, reach-for-the-stars, over- the-fence, world-series kind of stuff.
And I don’t want to be afraid to tell her... because it’s true.
I don't know who she is... yet. But I know I love her.
That's my secret. I hope you can keep it just between us...