The other night, as my hubby and I were parting ways, he said, “Gee, you’re pretty.” Of course I smiled and said, “I know.” Then I quipped about how I was turning into Bones, very conceited. We laughed. Later, as I was lying in bed, I replayed the conversation in my head.
I’m pretty insecure; it takes a lot for me to admit that. The insecurity is very obvious when it comes to my appearance. I love it when Geek Man tells me I’m beautiful, but a part of me doubts anyway.
It was that part of doubt that caused me to begin wondering why he said it – was he wanting something else, and so said it to prep my mood? Those thoughts led to ones of needing to hear it everyday so that I wouldn’t question his motives.
Then, my hopeless-romantic streak really kicked into overdrive. I thought how wonderful it would be, if just once, I could literally take his breath away. I’ve always wanted to be “breath-taking” – “stunning” – to be able to make at least one man stumble over his feet, or stop in his tracks, or stutter stupidly. I think, at least I hope it’s so, every woman has this desire. I hope it’s so because I’d really hate to be the weird one.
As I’m lying in bed, lamenting how I’ve never caused Geek Man to stumble or stutter due to my beauty, this thought came into my head:
“Jesus thinks you’re breath-taking.” I fell asleep thinking it was “tres romantique” to have imagined that my Savior thinks I’m breath-taking.