There is one man I could never shake.

He was a tall fellow, a true gentleman.

He had the silhouette of a warrior.

He stepped out of the 1800s and wound up in 2023.

He did not belong to this world, and this world knew not what to do with him. 

He floundered a bit.

Too rugged to be a salesman, so he fled city life for the bayou.

And oh, how time passes.

–

The day I met him, I felt a gust of wind as he walked through the door.

He wore a bike helmet that scraped the ceiling, and his shaggy hair flopped over his forehead and as I took in his strangeness and his height, I could feel his eyes on me before I met them. And when I did… His eyes were kind, yet strong. They have always revealed so much. They were empathetic and good.

I could feel his vulnerability in that moment, and have always wondered if he thought the same thing I did when our eyes met.

I saw his eyes, and told myself, “He will be my husband one day.”

But his eyes also told another story, one that he did not show in that moment but that I could see behind the surface. That of a cold blooded warrior, one who has seen blood spilled, and perhaps even spilled it himself. But a warrior who loves, who protects. 

It was as if this man knew God. As if he had been touched by God Himself. I have counted myself lucky for every time I have been in his presence, as knowing him brought me closer to religion. 

I have never felt so much a woman as I did next to this man.

I remember thinking his eyes were like an ocean. I could see the current moving in them. I could see myself swimming inside of them. We were looking sideways at each other, awkwardly. We were both happy on ale and whiskey. We loved whiskey. Well, I always have. I can be a lousy drunk, but I have never been boring.

Then we stood by the kitchen door, watching the evening go on together as we always did when the crowd was large enough to blend in. He leaned against the doorframe, threatening to break it; Broad-shouldered and tall, towering over everybody. Overpowering everybody, physically and emotionally, whether he knew it or not.

Men looked up to him and feared him.

Maybe, women did as well, but he softened his tone around the fairer sex. He was all too aware of the impression he made.

In the doorframe, he stood proud and tall.

That last night, he said he was glad to see me. That it was boring before, and I was the life of the party.

He also called me mysterious, which was funny.

How could I be both?

—

And the night went on, and when I left, I hugged some of his friends, but not him. I was even standing on the same step as him. But I did not want to give myself away.

I did not know when he was leaving, but one night, near my birthday, I had a dream.

We were in bed, and he turned to me.

He breathed down my neck, grabbed my breast and said “I have one more night here with you. We have one more night.”

I had to wake up to reality the next day.

That night I found out that unbeknownst to me, he had left the city for the bayou.

I will forever curse him for ruining love for me, as I felt it true once and now I fear I never will again.

All that is left to say is I am grateful for knowing those feelings. They were beautiful, and they are fading.