The day is coming. Oh sure, maybe it’s a decade down the line, maybe, maybe if we’re lucky it will wait until year 14 or 15. But there will come a day when my little girls’ hearts will droop below their self-maligned chests over the inattention of a boy-man.
And I will be crushed.
Then will come the days of bracing myself against the onslaught of “oh-no’s” that traipse through my girls’ lives like so many cards through a Vegas dealer’s hands. Like the bunch that passed through mine:
- “Fresno,” the skinny dude who wore an elf hat that nearly touched the ground. (Forgive me, I was a college freshman.)
- A wannabe punker whose black leather coat was laced with white lights. He glowed his way down the movie theater aisle. Nice.
- Jorge, Juan and Enrique. I wish it would have worked out. I could have had homemade tamales for life.
- My puppy love who appreciated my quirky perspectives and pragmatic character, but also appreciated every other female on campus.
- The most kind-hearted man I’ll ever meet who cared for the homeless and for me. I loved him. But not enough to see his car in my driveway for the rest of my life.
Until one day, after numerous bouts of heaving tears down their cheeks over some schlep and hours of overanalyzing said schlep with girlfriends, and wondering if they’ll be alone forever or well into their 30s (whichever comes first), my daughters will meet “the one.”
- He might be the one who everyone feels comfortable talking to.
- He might be the one that brings laughter to every gathering.
- He might be the one who dances his a$$ off at the club so all of his gal pals have a dance partner.
- He might be the one who is wise, sensitive and will wait.
And that’s good. Because someone like that will end up being the kind of husband that:
- Puts up with ridiculous amounts of planning.
- Is up for adventures found abroad and in a home-cooked meal.
- Cleans up poopsplosions, masters the ponytail, and hugs a newborn to his chest all night.
- Is fiercely loyal and protective.
- Is in it for the long haul.
Someone like their father. (Shh, don’t tell them!)
When the times comes – the time when the baby I swaddled and steamed through croup, plucked from atop baby gates and loved more than my own life – meets “that one” who will lovingly carry her further away from me, there I will stand beside my best friend and best man, approving.