Mr. Right

I've been single for way longer than I expected I would be. It doesn't always seem that long... but when I think about how old Ryan was when my marriage ended (five), or how old Sundance is now (nine), it hits me.

Ages.

I've been single for ages.

I knew I didn't want to date right after the split, as I had some healing -- and some work -- to do. The way the marriage ended was on him, but the failure was about both of us, and I had to accept and fully own my part of it. It was really important to me that I figure out what I did to help create and perpetuate issues and to ensure that I didn't bring those things to another relationship.

So I saw a therapist for a year. I wrote a lot. I went inside -- deep inside. And after that year, I took another year, just to be sure I was ready.

And then I started dating.

And I found out I probably wasn't really ready after all. But I met some great men. And a few not-so-great ones (but I sussed them out pretty quickly, so I'd obviously learned something).

And I fell in love with someone I thought was Mr. Right.

And I got terribly, terribly hurt.

And I took some more time off. Again.

Then I started dating. Again.

And I met some great men. And few not-so-good ones. And a few downright strange ones.

Some of those great men turned into really great friends -- friends who are in my life still; friends I adore and wouldn't trade for the world. But no one turned out to be Mr. Right.

And then?

I just kind of gave up. And that's where I've been for the last two years or so.

Two years or so.

And it's fine. I decided that it was better to be alone than to be in the wrong relationship. And I decided that, at some point, I really do want the relationship, and not the casual thing. I'm not talking about marriage, though. I won't say never, but I don't feel the need to ever do that again. But I do like the comfort and the security and the fun and the romance and the mundane togetherness that comes with an exclusive, monogamous, loving relationship. I do.

I don't need it.

But I want it.

And I'm willing to hold out for it.

But Mr. Right? Well, he hasn't fallen into my lap in the past two years. Or the past seven.

And I'm guessing? He won't.

Damn.

So a couple of weeks ago, a friend asked me what Mr. Right would look like.

That's easy.

Hellooo, Mr. Butler (or as I like to call him, Ryan's New Daddy)!

Heh. I'm kidding. I mean, I wouldn't complain (who in her right mind would?!) but looks actually don't figure into it much at all. A person just has to be attractive to me.

Anyway, I made a list -- a list of all the qualities I'd like Mr. Right to possess. And I was going to include it here, but you know what? I'm guessing it'll look a whole lot like the list most women in their 40's would come up with -- women who have learned a lot about Life and aren't concerned with the superficial things that don't matter; women who want intelligence, humor, kindness, and commonalities.

So I won't bore you with it.

I will tell you, though, that of all the qualities I'd like in Mr. Right, one of the most important ones he can possess is the ability to generate that floopy feeling in my stomach. I want the butterflies. I do. I think they're important. They are what distinguish those amazingly wonderful friends from Mr. Right.

Chemistry? Is important. This I know for sure.

Also? Timing. Timing is incredibly important. This I know for sure, too.

Sigh.

And I've actually found them all, really -- all the wonderful qualities... the chemistry... the timing...

I just haven't found them all at the same time in the same person.

So here I sit. Single.

I figure all the planets will align someday.

And if not?

Well, dogs make great companions.