Rescued

I know that I said that I wouldn't write about any men I dated again until the relationship was serious, and I meant it. But since the subject of this post doesn't read this blog and for all outward appearances, most unfortunately, looks like is exiting my life - I guess exceptions are allowed. He was, is, a Fire Fighter. Let me tell you ladies and gays -we have all had our fair share of Fire Fighter fantasies and, trust me, this man lived up to every one of mine. Not only is he nearly everything I could want in a Sexy Rescue Hero but in a man as well. Dammit.

I could write volumes about how sweet and nurturing and generous and wonderful blah, blah, blah... he is but that would just make my heart seize again. And that is not a sensation I am remotely enjoying. Suffice it to say that one of the good guys dropped into my life out of the blue, changed everything and, due to bad timing and complicated life shit, vanished nearly as quickly as he appeared. And so here I sit, wallowing in my kiddie pool of gross disappointment and longing, marveling at the equally unexpected miracle that has taken place in me.

Before I even knew what was happening, he rescued me. Me - who has violently resisted any kind of rescuing for a very long time. Maybe it's just finally time or maybe it's because my heart suddenly found itself handled by one who rescues and gives life for a living - one with whom it finally felt unquestionably safe and blessedly happy. Probably both. This man came along and did nothing, other than be himself, and cracked my heart wide open. My heart that, nearly five years ago - while in the middle of my last long term and emotionally debilitating relationship, finally just up and died. I stopped believing in romance. Love songs pissed me off. Romantic comedies became things I avoided like the plague. I put on my smart ass armor and joined the ranks of the bitter and jaded.

I have wanted to love again. And my new man-picker is still working wonderfully. I have had several incredible men love me and want me but, when it really came down to it, my heart just wouldn't beat again - no matter how much I begged for it to.

Until now.

He held me and loved me and the walls came tumbling down. My heart is finally beating again. And feeling. And bleeding. And breathing. And loving huge amounts of love. And it hurts like hell but I wouldn't have it any other way.

Someday soon I will stop pining for him. And I will stop hoping for him to knock on my door and tell me that he still wants me. I will stop crying and I will start smiling again. And then, probably when I least expect it, there will be another man. A man whose heart can want me and has room to love me. And I will be rescued again. Not from all the inappropriate things we women so often expect to be rescued from but from loneliness and isolation and ever empty arms in an ever empty bed. And I will be more than happy, and thankfully ready, to rescue him right back.