The Man of My Dreams dreams of a woman who nurtures him with food, greets him with a lovely glass of wine when he walks through the door.
I do not do this naturally. I want to fix this about myself. I can learn this. If I learn this, he will know that he can trust me. And then he will come back to me. I will benefit, because I will learn to cook. He will benefit because food makes him happy. Food to him is more dependable than people.
He also dreams of a woman who is kind. I am kind. He also dreams of a woman who is intelligent. I am intelligent. He also dreams of a woman who is beautiful. I am beautiful. He also dreams of a woman who loves to socialize. I can hold my own and then some. He also dreams of a woman with a beautiful singing voice. I have a beautiful singing voice. He also dreams of a woman with whom he can share a loving home. I come installed with a lovely, homey-home. He also dreams of a woman who stimulates his mind. I am quite stimulating - or so I’ve been told. Certainly not dull. He also dreams of a woman with whom he can have easy conversation and easy laughter. We have both of these. He also dreams of a woman who loves him. I love him.
He also dreams of a woman who loves wine. But sometimes I forget where I put down my wine glass, and he hates this, or it pains him. Now I am paranoid that I will forget my wine and that he will be hurt or mad. So I am vigilant about the wine glass.
He also wants a woman who is relaxed almost all of the time. When I am trying to remember not to forget my wine glass, so that he will know that I love him, I am not totally relaxed. So I try to remember to be relaxed when I am looking for my wine glass, but this is not totally relaxing.
But he also believes that the woman who truly loves him would not forget her wine glass. If I forget something as simple as a wine glass I might forget him.
I might forget my wine glass. I would never forget him. Sometimes I forget my wine glass because I am concentrating on him, on what he is saying or doing.
He wants a woman who is open to changing one simple thing about herself. I am open to changing myself.
He wants a woman who is open to changing one simple thing about herself, but only if it is effortless to change. When he means effortless, what he says is natural. It takes a lot of effort to change yourself, without effort. But I am still trying. I am trying to change with effortlessness. I try to make natural effort, effortless.
He also wants a woman who loves touch. Loves to touch his body. I love to touch his body. But sometimes he does not want to be touched, and he doesn’t like to say when these times are.
And the woman he dreams of would know when to touch his body and when not to. She would just know, because she is attuned to him. They move in perfect concert.
I do not always move how he wants me to move. But I am open to hearing how he would like it.
But the woman he dreams of does not have to be told how to touch him. She just always knows. If she can’t sense where he is at, she might not be safe enough for him.
I am watching, I am trying, Sometimes I ask for him to help me understand when I don’t do it as he needs.
The woman who he dreams of does not need instruction, does not need help in understanding him. He also dreams of a woman who appreciates and loves food and makes it a priority.
But he is the Man of My Dreams, and cooking seems doable. But he doesn’t want just cooking, he wants cooking in a relaxed and spontaneous way. But cooking well is new to me, and about it I feel neither completely relaxed nor spontaneous. But I will learn and prepare and I will try. I will fix this about myself, so he will remember all that he loves about me.
We are broken up, and he is open to being courted, but I need to court effortlessly, and not be attached to whether we are together again. I can court him if I remain unattached.
I invite him to come over to have light fair: soup, braised greens and a bit of wine and cheese. Soup is simple. I can make soup. But I don’t want to make just any soup, because I want him to feel thought of and considered. He feels under the weather, so I will make a garlic soup. A garlic mushroom soup. That sounds simple and elegant. But there are a lot of mushrooms I must choose from, and I think that there are some mushrooms that would make one feel more considered. A chanterelle sounds like a mushroom of the considered. A button sounds less considered. I will go with all the mushrooms that sound the most special. The chanterelles, the oysters, the shitakes, the abalones. I will avoid the mushroom that costs fifty dollars a pound. And still, my casual soup is going to cost a fortune. But I think of all the times I didn’t cook for him that he would have appreciated being cooked for.
I begin cooking at two pm. He is coming over around eight. I bought all the ingredients the day before, and wanted to have it done the day before. The braised greens still need to happen. I need the sherry and the cognac and the two kinds of wine to go with mushroom soup. The Italians have special medium bodied wines with their soups. We will have this wine. We will have wine and cheese. And I will build a warm fire so he will feel welcomed. I buy extra wood so we wont run out. I build the perfect fire that I will light in an instant.
I will have dessert. The last time he was here he queried about a possible dessert. I had no dessert for him. This time I will have raspberries with heavy whipped cream. But I can’t find the whisk. I think when he left, he left with the whisk. I try whisking it with a spoon. I try whisking it with a fork. It splashes out of the bowl and Isabelle licks it up.
My fire is stacked and built. My table is set. I have bubbly water and a candle, and two choices of wine, and two types of cheese, and two comfortable chairs. I have the porch light on. A long time ago I forgot to turn the porch light on more than once, and he took this as a sign that I wasn’t considering him.
The woman of his dreams would remember to turn the porch light on. If she forgot to turn the porch light on she might forget him. Because to him a porch light is easier to remember than a person. A porch light is simple.
Porch light on. Table set. Fire now lit. Not too many candles. Candles make his asthma flare up. I have one candle burning and it is a low scent. My mushrooms are almost finished. They have taken three times as long as the book says, but I cooked twice as many as they said. I want to make sure it is nourishing. I want him to know he can be nourished here. That I am capable of this. That there is something for him to receive here.
I greet him warmly. I decide I need a glass of wine so that he cannot see that all of these new tasks take effort. They take effort. But the woman of his dreams does all this effortlessly. I offer to take his coat.
The woman of his dreams remembers to keep the porch light on, but perhaps does not ask to take his coat. Because to him taking his coat is not gracious, it is trying too hard. And trying too hard is not effortless. And effort is not sexy, and trying to meet his need is not attractive.
But not trying means to not learn how to offer all that he needs. So I am in a jam. But I proceed. I offer him his seat, while I putter in the kitchen. He has his full-bodied red for the cheese. The fire is raging. The table is beautiful. But he would like to watch TV. He no longer has cable. Watching TV is a regular thing to do. What he means by this is that watching TV doesn’t take any effort. He does not like that I have gone to this effort. The woman of his dreams does not do this.
The woman of his dreams knows when it is the time to watch TV, and when it is time to sit in front of the fire. And this is not the time to sit in front of the fire. The woman of his dreams would know this.
I walk to the kitchen and take another sip of wine. I am trying not to care. I stand in front of the fire to find that place that is effortless. He notices the tiniest signs of disappointment. The woman of his dreams can adapt seamlessly, effortlessly. The woman of his dreams would know that he is tired, and would know that TV, more than anything right now would lift his spirits.
Somewhere between the asking for the coat and something else, I lost him. He cannot trust me. I did not take care of him. Another sip of wine. It is easy to keep track of the glass now.
Another show that he likes is on, so I bring the food to him. The woman of his dreams would have brought all the food during the first show, not just the appetizers. She wouldn’t have resisted the change from the fire to the TV. He sees the plates and says this is too much. I take them back and cut the food in half.
The second show is over. I ask him if he would like dessert. The woman of his dreams does not force dessert. I do not force. He only wants the littlest bit. I think he is being polite now. He suggests we take the raspberries with their unwhipped cream to the fire. I offer him a piece of dark chocolate. His favorite. He only wants the littlest bit. It is not clear he really wants it. He takes a smidge.
The woman of his dreams senses when he wants to go and does not want him to linger when he wants to leave. He mentions he should go, so I get up and begin clearing the table. I am signaling that I know the evening is over. But the woman of his dreams doesn’t do it this way. I don’t know how she would do it. But it isn’t like this.
He offers a hug. It feels stiff. He laughs. I don’t know what this laugh means. But the woman of his dreams would hug until that perfect unified moment of letting go.
M. Griswold
http://www.facebook.com/griswoldmegan
