I don't want to generalize here, but I found city men to be hard to please, always looking over their shoulder (my shoulder) for the next best thing, never satisfied, but what's worse, they couldn't do anything. They weren't handy.
I had a hard time with this. I grew up in a house where men knew how to fix stuff. My father and brothers could repair anything, all while looking good in flannel. Whether it was in the house, out in the yard or on the car. It didn't matter. They could handle it. They knew how to use tools.
I can't say for sure, but this environment may have influenced my taste in men. What can I say? I liked flannel, but men in flannel shirts didn't gravitate to the big city. I wasn't finding what I looking for among the producers and video editors I worked with on a daily basis. I won't even mention the creatives...The copywriters, art directors and graphic designers. Talented? Maybe, but not a flannel shirt or tool box in the bunch.
My work didn't mix with any financial Wall Street types or anyone that might have a normal job, so I can't speak for them, but in my small world of advertising and video post-production, the men couldn't fix anything. They could create a lot of problems, but they couldn't change a tire, build a shelf or hang a picture if their life depended on it, and that mattered to me.
Needless to say, I remained single a long time.
One day I walked into work at my video facility, went straight to the machine room as always, and found unfamiliar blue jean clad legs sticking out from under a tall rack of tape machines. These legs belonged to a freelance video engineer covering for our vacationing regular guy. This freelancer was wearing a flannel shirt.
He stayed the week and though I thought of him occasionally, it was a couple years before I saw him again. He came to work for us full time as the chief engineer. His job was to keep our multi-million dollar facility running. People went to him with troubles to resolve and he thrived on it.
We became very good friends and after a few years, I married him... Ten years ago today.
In all of suit-wearing Manhattan, I succeeded in finding the love of my life, my best friend. We built a nice life, started to raise a beautiful family and one day, were told it was breast cancer. My man who spends his days putting out fires, solving problems, building new things and repairing broken ones...couldn't fix me.
He had to put his faith and trust in the hands of others and let go, while never leaving my side. Not easy for such a man, but here are some things he needs to know and never forget:
It's your presence that carries me.
It's your wish to see our dreams fulfilled that sustain me.
Your love and ever lasting support drive me.
And in those ways...You heal me.
I am one lucky city girl.
Happy 10 year anniversary to my love.
2011 and beyond.
Who heals you without even knowing it?