Last night Sam and I went down to Party in the Park, Cincinnati’s summer soiree that happens every Wednesday night where folks gather to drink beer and listen to live music. We started talking about potential mates, and I noted that there wasn’t a single man there within my age range. I might as well wait until I’m 45 to have some sort of romantic social life. He tried to disagree with me, but I pointed out the thirty-somethings that were there had never been married and were not looking to date a divorced mom of three. Those who might not be opposed to a relationship with a single mom were in their fifties and were looking more for someone in their mid- forties with older children. Again, not in my spectrum of possible partners. Sam begrudgingly agreed that the pickings were slim, but insisted that 45 seems like an awful long time to wait for that special someone to steal my heart. Perhaps he has a point, but I wouldn’t be opposed to waiting that long for the right someone.
Who is the right someone you ask? Well, on this Verse-Day Thursday, I’m going to invoke two songs from my favorite band, Red Wanting Blue. The first is called “Spies and Lovers,” and you can find a video here. When I first heard this song, it hit so close to home that I cried. This was exactly how all of my love affairs have been, including my 10 year marriage–this idea of being both love and war, both spies and lovers. The passionate person that is me through and through loved the highs as my heart soared with love and adoration for these special men. On the flip side, the wars were awful, plunging me into a depression that could only be lifted by the next high. While this gut-wrenching, soul-ensnaring type of love might have appealed to the hopeless romantic in me, it was far from healthy. Passion and romance do not necessarily mean a fire that burns so hot that it eventually puts itself out.
After my divorce I swore that I would only remarry on two conditions: (1) if he bought me the big, comfy, velvety, purple wingback chair that used to be in every Starbucks; and (2) if he played me a song that he had written about me. Think Tom Petty’s “Here Comes My Girl,” and that’s exactly what my man would produce to win my heart. Admittedly these are two very stringent demands, which should give you some idea about my thoughts on remarriage at the time—I pretty much wanted nothing to do with it. As I’ve moved on from the hurt, I am more open to the possibility of remarriage, but would also be just as happy with having the love of my life by my side, decree or no decree. However it happens, I know that “Spies and Lovers” will have no part in our love affair.
Instead, I offer you this. “You’re My Las Vegas” is perhaps one of the most romantic love songs out there—at least in my view. It is fun and playful. It is soulful and romance at its finest. “Baby you’re my Las Vegas/A queen of hearts and the king of all fools/Ain’t enough lights in this town to outshine me and you…” Yes! That’s exactly it. The two of us are so strong together, so brilliantly in love that even the lights of Las Vegas are dim in comparison. Lights are so much safer than a fire…if something goes awry you figure out (together) where the faulty bulb is and pop in another one to fix it. Voila, back to shining brightly. A fire leaves you no choice but to burn the whole damn thing down.
So what is it that I want now that I’m open to falling in love again? My King of All Fools will playfully kick me in the booty as we’re making dinner in the kitchen. He will tickle me until I beg for mercy, blowing kisses on my neck all the while. He will throw my daughter up into the air and catch her just in time to make her squeal. My partner of partners will love me and my flaws…unconditionally. He will read my writing and respond with criticism, both positive and negative. He will see something that reminds him of me, either silly or serious, snap a pic and text it to me. And I’ll know exactly what he was getting at because we’re of the same mind.
I’m not sure who this man is, but I know he’s out there. And he’s looking for his Queen of Hearts, too. And when we do meet, I hope our eyes catch each other’s gaze and I find myself humming, “But if you’d just bet on me, I’ll be your surest thing…”
I love you all, some more than others.