Someone to Watch Over Me

There’s a saying old, says that love is blind,
Still we’re often told, “Seek and ye shall find.”
So I’m going to seek a certain lad I’ve had in mind…

It’s the sort of co-dependent anthem we’re not supposed to like – the sad, pathetic admission that all we want may just be for someone to take care of us. It’s not something that those who didn’t know me would ever accuse me of being, but those who did know – the few who saw through to my heart – knew it well. I was, and would always be, a reluctant romantic – try as I might to pretend otherwise. You only get burned so many times before you turn those romantic overtures down, but you’re never able to completely rid them from your most secret wants and yearnings. I’ve held onto mine all this time.

There’s a somebody I’m longin’ to see
I hope that he, turns out to be
Someone who’ll watch over me

I’m a little lamb who’s lost in the wood
I know I could, always be good
To one who’ll watch over me

This is not a post for those just stepping into a new relationship. No, this is the kind of kiss of death that you don’t impart until you’re married. The games we’ve been trained to play when it comes to love don’t allow you to be so bold, so brazen, so frighteningly raw. No, young lovers, hide your heart and bury your longing – at least if you want to hang onto the one you love. Is there anything so strange that we humans do as pretending to not be as interested as we really are? I wasn’t good at hiding that sort of thing. And guys weren’t good at dealing with someone who didn’t bother hiding it. So I danced alone for a long time, swaying in dim empty rooms whenever a song like this came on, rocking in solitude to lyrics that pierced my heart for lack of understanding, lack of experience, lack of love.

Although he may not be the man some
Girls think of as handsome
To my heart he carries the key

Won’t you tell him please to put on some speed
Follow my lead, oh, how I need
Someone to watch over me

And I waited, and wondered, and hoped, and prayed. And waited, and cried, and loved. And there were lovers fair, and lovers cruel, lovers who cared enough to leave, and lovers who didn’t care enough to stay. And even though I’ve been with my husband for over a dozen years, love is still a tricky thing, seeping into the darkest corners to let in a little light, or pouring over the burning ache of hurts newly raw. I don’t always understand it, I don’t know how it comes to be, and perhaps that’s best. It’s not something you can corner or trap, not something you can control or cajole, but when you’re ready – when you’re really ready to be loved – someone will be there. And then the wanting will be okay.

Won’t you tell him please to put on some speed
Follow my lead, oh, how I need
Someone to watch over me...

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