If you asked me what kind of man I had wanted for a lover, I probably would have said someone intelligent, caring, and strong. I’d wish for a man’s man, be that in the fashion of Clint Eastwood or the Marlboro man.
I’ve had my share of lovers, some more in keeping with that image, some in keeping with the bad boy image, and still others who looked like the businessmen they were.
Beloved isn’t precisely the Marlboro man; he can’t even ride a horse. Instead, he will use logic and intelligence to get out of a bind any time over brawn. He does have a black leather jacket, but not one that screams out rebel. He has suits and ties and dress shirts and shoes with tassels. But he never looks ultimately at ease in them.
He is most comfortable in jeans and a casual shirt. However, he is in his element when he is debating or teaching. He is most romantic when he recites poetry or gives voice to the ideas in his mind.
He is nothing like I would have ever thought I wanted and yet is everything and so much more. He doesn’t even know he’s these things.
waltzingwithwhims 