I’m 42 and for the past 30+ years, I have carried a secret with me. A desire that has never been fulfilled and this is the reason I think I never really got married.
This is hard for me to say out loud because it’s a bit embarrassing and I don’t know how people will react to it.
When I was fifteen I met a blue eyed blond haired boy by the name of “Jimmy”. He liked me a lot and we became friends. That experience never left me. A few years later Jimmy died in a car crash and I never felt the same since. Sometimes I wonder if he is the reason that I can’t seem to get rid of the idea that my true love should be blue eyed.
There is something about white men that just stirs my blood the way not other kind of men ever did. Somehow I have never felt quite complete by the men I date and I have only ever dated black men.
I am part black and part Indian; though I have heard I also possess a little white blood I can’t prove that.
One keeps hoping that they would meet the love of their life and somehow I have given up on that because I don’t think I ever will.
Can a 42 year hope to meet the man of her dreams? Is it really possible? Should I just be content that someone here and now beside me loves me?
How does one give up on their hope of finding that one person who completes you?