When I said I was starting this blog about the male POV, a fellow RWA member asked me if I’d be confessing. Haven’t been in the church box for a while. Also, this isn’t really supposed to be personal, but I did say I’d be honest. I thought I could pin the trait on some anonymous guy.
So just once for the sake of women everywhere who don’t believe a guy could feel this way.
Truly confessing right here, right now.
Okay, I’m back.
I wonder what happened to my high school sweetheart. It was September 1965. We sat on a bluff overlooking the swim club where we worked and played. I said goodbye because I was going away to college and she was starting her senior year in high school. She fell to pieces. I didn’t do any better. There is not a week that goes by in all these years that I don’t think about her. Her family moved away, and since then I had no idea where she went. You’d think with Facebook, and all the other internet resources I’d be able to find her. No such luck. All I want to know is if she’s doing well, did she marry (like I did), how many kids, how they are doing. What she thought of our sweet love.
Love is infinite. It is perfectly possible to care about another person without disturbing your marriage. Yes, I’m a romantic. I hardly remember what we talked about. I do remember kissing her for hours at a time. I enjoyed being together, every moment.
Every moment of the heart builds the true treasures of life.
Am I a typical guy? Maybe not, but it certainly can be another arrow in your quiver when you build your hero or male character’s past or even could be the basis for a resurrection story where the hero searches and finds his heroine.
Wherever you are Margie Miller, I wish you the best. I hope you are happy. I am. I'd be happier if I knew you and yours were well.