You’re Not Broken… God Sent Him to Heal You

They say a woman’s heart should be so deeply rooted in God that a man has to know him before he can get to her. I don’t know who ‘they’ are but I do know they have a point. Faith goes to character, faith goes to passion, faith goes to compassion. A love for God is a love for people, for life and for herself.

How can a person know what they like if they’ve never dated? How do you know you love artistic men if you’ve never been out with one? We can be miserable people. How do you know you want to be a stay at home wife if you get bored when you’re off for a week?

I’m not the guy that takes it personal when a woman has lived life. Traveled the world with different lovers, went on dates and to All Star Weekends. Go live life and find out what you want, what you need and get it out your system. When I find you I’m willing to fix whatever bruises your heart has because God doesn’t make mistakes. And him putting us in each others path is very much intentional.

I write for a living, it’s my life. So I get the power of words but I get the power of actions even more. It’s easy for a man to tell a woman, “I’m different,” but show her! Showing her is healing her. It’s making her forget about all the liars, manipulators, users and creeps that broke her down so that I can put her back together.

She’s Not You…

She didn’t have a Twitter and she rarely posted anything on FB but her best friend was the biggest attention whore ever. She let the world know her entire life and usually I ignored everything she posted but tonight was different.

“Going to Sugarhill tonight to turnup with my girl! You chicks are bragging about costume jewelry and she’s a Dr.! The youngest professor at St. Thomas University!”

Six months ago I wouldn’t have thought twice about leaving my pregnant wife to go see the woman that said no to me. Six weeks ago I was down to only thinking about her when I slept. Six days ago I kissed my fiancé and didn’t compare their lips to each other for the first time. But six hours ago she called me and her voice was echoing in my mind, every memory, every argument, every touch. The scenes playing in my head like a movie. “I’m going to Starbucks to get some coffee, get some writing done. You need anything?” She pulled me to her and kissed me, said just be safe. It was the first lie I’d ever told her. I needed to see Alexis.

It was 3am and I knew the club was closed but habits didn’t change. There was a bbq truck in 3rd Ward that her and her friends ate at faithfully. My logic was simple, if she was there we’d talk. If she wasn’t, I’d stop and get some coffee and go home to the woman that was carrying my child.

Turning the corner off of Scott you’d have thought it was 10pm instead of 3am. Cars were every where, I forgot it was homecoming weekend. I pulled into the parking lot and there she was, leaning against a car trying not to waste bbq sauce. I knew every woman with her and they were all laughing and eating.

Walking up to her, jeans and a t-shirt, thin leather jacket I didn’t say anything. Neither did she. I was afraid because looking in her eyes I knew she was feeling what I was feeling.

“You look good Lex.”

“You still have that jacket huh?” She laughed, I wiped some sauce off her chin. All her friends watching, quiet, like they were in a theatre.

I asked her could we talk for a minute. She told me to go home and talk to my wife. I stepped into her space, her friends looked like they were all ready to jump on me, they knew our history, our story. She put her hand on my chest to push me back, she told me whatever I needed to say I could say in front of her girls. I looked each of them in the eye. She threw her food at me and tried to hit me, I caught her wrist and kissed her. Why are you here?! Why couldn’t you wait on me?! Go home to your bitch! ‘She’s not you!’ I yelled. ‘She’s not you.’ I said. She grabbed my shirt, I didn’t fight her. Her friends gasped, my fiancé was watching and holding her stomach. Fuck my life…