Here I am, 53 years young and back in the dating rodeo. Widowhood, and divorced – let’s just say my heart’s been through the wringer. But you know what? I’ve learned a thing or two. Mostly, I’ve learned that this time around, I’m not settling for luke-warm coffee and half-hearted efforts. Nope. This next chapter? It’s gotta be filled with genuine happiness.
So, I dove headfirst into this whole manifesting thing, inspired by Delores Cannon. She says, if it doesn’t hurt anyone else, the universe is your oyster. Well, my oyster is apparently three college-ruled pages long and detailing the man I want to walk into my life. I left NOTHING out. Every quirk, every must-have.
And let me tell you, this fella I’ve conjured up in my mind? He’s something else. Not some polished city slicker, mind you. Think more… strong leather and calloused hands. He’s the kind of man who knows his way around a toolbox and probably owns a flannel, plaid and t-shirt collection that could rival a small store. There’s a quiet strength about him, a man who’s comfortable in his own skin, rumbling laugh that makes you feel grounded, and his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles – a genuine, honest smile.
He appreciates the simple things – a good cup of coffee in the morning, the quiet of nature, a well-worn book. He’s not afraid of hard work, and there’s a steadiness to him that just feels… right. He’s smart, witty and intelligent. He’s the kind of man who can build a fire in the pouring rain and still manage to say something that makes me snort-laugh. And yes, I even detailed his handshake – firm, warm, like coming home.
Following Delores’s instructions, I’m living as if he’s already here. I catch myself smiling at an empty chair, imagining him sitting there, telling me about his day. I feel the warmth of his hand in mine when I’m out for a walk. It’s almost like he’s a phantom limb, a comforting presence just out of reach.
Now, the burning question, the one that makes me glance at every pickup truck that rumbles down the road: when does this rugged, flannel-clad dream boat show up on my doorstep?
Honestly, if the universe had a delivery schedule, I’d have circled the date on my calendar with a big, glittery heart. But it doesn’t work that way, does it? It’s more like waiting for that perfectly aged whiskey – it takes time, and you just have to trust the process.
So, while my mental image of this man is so vivid I could probably pick him out in a crowd of lumberjacks, I’m also living my life. I’m enjoying my friends, my family, my hobbies, and the quiet satisfaction of knowing I’m worth a love that feels solid and true.
This amazing man I’ve manifested? He’s out there. The universe has my detailed blueprint. Now, it’s just a matter of time. And while I wait, I’ll keep my porch light on, just in case he happens to have a slightly unreliable GPS and ends up in HooVille a little sooner than expected. A woman deserves to be happy, especially a woman who knows exactly what kind of happiness she’s manifesting – right down to the scent of his aftershave and the comfortable silence they share while watching the sunset. Bring it on, universe. I’m ready.