Lately, I’m surprised by how guarded I’ve become. Not cynical…..just tender in the places that were once hurt. Hope feels a little threadbare some days, and my heart is still relearning its way.
I was listening to Travis and Taylor’s podcast, and what struck me was her realization that all his big, sweeping gestures, what she jokingly called a “mantantrum”, were the very love songs she’s been writing all along. A story John Hughes or Garry Marshall would have taught us to root for.
When I try to name my own love story, words tangle. Sometimes the hope of it makes my eyes sting more than the possibility itself. Still, this is what I want:
- to laugh until we’re breathless
- to talk about everything and nothing
- to dance in the kitchen (maybe a little Dirty Dancing)
- to be absolutely silly
- to be a partner I’m proud of, and proud to stand beside
- to dream new dreams together
- to grow, on purpose and hand in hand
- to share comfortable, unhurried silence
- to lie under the stars
- to trade slow kisses and long hugs
- to know deep, steady intimacy
It sounds like a movie, I know. But here’s the part that makes my eyes well – the part that would make love feel safe enough to give away freely: I want someone who feels it in his stomach when he realizes he’s hurt me. Someone humble enough to say, “I was wrong,” and brave enough to make it right. I don’t want to fight to be seen, or to be acknowledged, or to be validated.
We’re human. We have off days. We snap when we should stay quiet. We react when we meant to respond. The difference, for me, is repair – stepping back, softening our voices, choosing us.
Some wounds, even well-tended, become scars. Love doesn’t erase them; it learns their map and holds them gently. And so I keep a small, steady candle of hope- bright with romance, edged with the thinnest sliver of fear- trusting that the right heart will see the light, and stay.
To my future love,
I don’t know when you’ll come into my life. Maybe in a quiet, ordinary moment when neither of us is looking. Until then, know I’m doing the work, softening old edges, tending tender places, building a life I’m proud to invite you into.
When you arrive, you’ll meet the best version of me so far – unfinished but honest, hopeful and steady. And I’ll keep growing, not for perfection’s sake, but because you deserve someone who keeps showing up with curiosity, laughter, and courage.
I’m saving slow mornings and stargazing nights, quick apologies and real repair, the kind of love that learns and stays.
Take your time. I’ll be here – becoming, for me and for us.
Journey Coaching 
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