Get my friend, Claire, on the phone right now! We need to have lunch. Like now. I got some explaining to do to my friend, who happens to be about 15 years younger than I am.
The urgent need popped up when I got an email from her last week. Seems sweet Claire is tired of watching what seems like all of her friends getting married and having babies.
“Fix Me Up!” declares the email she sent out to those she loves and respects the most. I smile. Good for you, Claire!
Am I able to help Claire on her quest for love?
I read further through the email chain. This is what leads to my furrowed brow, my slamming on the brakes, my reaching for my phone to set up that lunch. The cause for my concern? Simply, the description of what my younger friend says she’s looking for.
There are some wonderful things on the list: Sense of humor. Height. Understanding her ambition. But according to this list, I realize Claire is looking for the same thing I looked for far too long.
A great boyfriend.
As I close in on my second wedding anniversary, I realize the hunt should be for a great husband.
And no, Claire, they are not the same thing.
Hey, boyfriends are great! It means having someone to do something with on Saturday night, not going solo to yet another one of those weddings, flowers on Valentine’s Day.
I need to say to Claire, that the formula of searching for a great boyfriend and hoping that some sprinklage of a magic pixie dust or turning yourself inside out to be his version of fabulous, will somehow make him want to be a husband — a great husband.
This was my formula for years. Yeah, that formula doesn’t work so well. OK, not at all.
Just ask me, who got married for the first time at the age of 49.
And I’m convinced it only happened then because God took matters into his own hands and made things very simple, delivering a rooms-to-go kind of man. Fully-assembled and functioning, so that I could see how one of those works.
Only by dating a single dad who was raising his 11-old-daughter alone, did I clearly see what a real man — true husband material — looks like. Only by seeing steady, dedicated, mature, good values operating right in front of my eyes on a daily basis did I get it.
Don’t get me wrong: He was a good boyfriend. There were plenty of Saturday night dates, he came with me to a friend’s wedding and, yes, there were flowers on Valentine’s Day.
But I have to explain to Claire that nothing delights me and takes my breath away like he does when he does husbandy stuff. The providing for our family, the telling our daughter that it’s his job to keep her safe, the laughter as he smiles at my quirky ways.
It’s like this, Claire: A fun little sports car is great for weekends, but you eventually need an SUV to get everything done.
So now I’m on the hunt for an SUV kind of guy for my friend, Claire. Scratch that.
She deserves an RV!
No, bigger!
A Mack Truck kinda guy who carries around the sports car inside for when it’s time to be silly and have fun.
But first, Claire I and going to have lunch where I will ask the question? “Girlfriend, you looking for a boyfriend or a husband?”
Dear Reader, I’d love to know what you think makes the difference. Email me at dak@darynkagan.com.
