You could be the fortunate man of my dreams. Really. Let me explain. Maybe I’m too trusting; perhaps I’m what some would call naïve. If a man acts a certain way, tells me certain things and in general, leads me to believe that he’s genuinely taken with me, I believe him. I’m also embarrassed to admit that I’ve credited those early behaviors long after reality indicates otherwise. I make excuses. I create a man in my imagination, giving him motivations, reasons, impulses … an entire secret life where he longs for me but is unable to express himself. If he’s Prince Charming, I’m waiting for him to awaken from his magical sleep, not me.
A dream man is actually very convenient. We don’t squabble or argue. I know he’s in love with me, so there are no worries there. We may see each other, talk, hang out … and I wait for him to act. Why do I believe he has a secret heart, waiting for the right moment? Because I’ve done this myself, too nervous and unsure to reveal my feelings, hoping the guy would “get it” without my telling him, hoping he would want me enough to overcome the fact that I’ve never shown an interest beyond friends. Who would call this healthy behavior?
My sister asked me recently if I’d ever considered really wanting a true love, a soul mate, the man of my (real) dreams. I told her I had one. (Yes, he’s Dream Man.)
“So you will spend the next fifty years waiting for him to show his love, not getting anything you need for your heart beyond friendship.” (My sister.)
Well, when you put it like that, it sounds pretty pathetic. I know. It accounts for the fact that I’ve turned away from interesting men who have been interested in me. Oh, I’ve considered them … feeling guilty and disloyal. The truth of the matter is that nobody has what I consider DM’s best qualities.
“How do you know?” (My sister again.)
I meet men all the time, but seriously, nobody attracts me like DM. Of course, it’s impossible, because I’ve created him. But like beautiful chalk drawings, side-walk art that captures my eye and imagination, at some point the rain comes. When the sun returns, there’s nothing but empty concrete. It’s time for a rain shower. I’m letting him go and considering the fact that there are rainbows I’ve missed.
I’m letting myself consider someone new and I’m cheered by the fact that he’s not anything like DM. Yes, he’s smart and 
funny, but I’m not looking for qualities that remind me of you-know-who. New Guy stands on his own – not as a ghost or substitute.
The bridge burns. The real man, who didn’t know or perhaps didn’t care, that he existed in my mind, stands on the other side, unaware. I’m on this side now, nervous, free, alone. My heart, open. My mind, unencumbered.
Stepping into new territory, choosing a new path and keeping an open mind. I know what I want and I’m going to find it. And if I go without, it will be real.
Even guys play this game. I remember in college talking with friends: whose your dream girl, who do you want to marry. Being red-blooded hetero’s we had to define her physical and sexual characteristics straight out “blonde, brunette, skinny, athletic, busty, whatever,” and then comes the more personal stuff. I wanted a philosopher / poet / musician. i suppose I wanted my mirror. I have a friend, lonely and looking, who says even today “Dan, find me a woman,” and his criterion are very basic: she has to be skinny. Well what else. ummm… she should like computers, be obsessed with computers, like dogs, that sort of thing. In other words, she has exactly the same interests as him.
But what we think we desire and what we actually desire our two different things. What we actually keep ending up with is what we desire. What we pretend to desire is the fuel for our complaints. a lot of guys, it seems, want some version of their mother, with a few conscious and deliberate exceptions (“she’s not such a neat freak”).
The interesting thing about a real person to love is that they surprise you, scare you, impress you, disappoint you, shock you, and also come to know parts of you didn’t know before, maybe understand aspects of yourself you cannot see. A flesh and blood lover can show you your true desires, not the fake ones you use as excuses to avoid the real adventure of life and love.
thanks, Daniel – once more you write with great insight and perspective.