-to really love a woman-

The last time I heard Bryan Adams sing about really loving a woman, I was a sappy 19-year-old, hoping that someday… somewhere… maybe… some man would want to love me forever. I loved the song. I thought there was a lot of truth in the words and I loved the romantic sound of the flamenco guitar.

To really love a woman, to understand her,
You gotta know her deep inside
Hear every thought, see every dream
And give her wings when she wants to fly
Then when you find yourself lying helpless in her arms,
You know you really love a woman

 When you love a woman, you tell her that she’s really wanted
When you love a woman, you tell her that she’s the one
Cause she needs somebody to tell her that you’ll always be together
So tell me have you ever really; really, really ever loved a woman?

 To really love a woman
Let her hold you, til you know how she needs to be touched
You’ve gotta breathe her, really taste her
Til you can feel her in your blood
And when you can see your unborn children in her eyes,
You know you really love a woman.

Last night I was in Wendy’s, carrying food to a table full of my family when I heard that Spanish guitar start up. Funny how after 15 years, I can still remember every word to certain songs.

So we’re sitting there eating. My high school brain is listening to the music, and my current brain is thinking, “The last time I heard this song, I was dreaming about exactly what I have right here. I had no idea that the next time I heard this song, I’d be sitting at a table with a man who loves me like those lyrics say he should.”

Meanwhile, on the other side of the table… Roger is saying to the kids, “Can you all find the fallacy in this song?”

Wesley and Judah sigh and roll their eyes at yet another life lesson in the middle of a fast food restaurant.

Avery shakes her head and says hopelessly, “I can barely even understand what he’s saying. I can’t answer that.”

Malin is probably thinking about hatching chickens.

Roger ends up answering his own question, “Because you can do and say all those things, but that doesn’t mean it’s really love.”

My brain was rudely pulled out of high school la-la land and back to my mature present where I:

a) completely agree with Roger and
b) don’t necessarily trust writers of popular songs

That man I married is so much more realistic than Bryan Adams.

Advertisements

About ruthie.voth

Wife of one, mother of four, friend of many. Lover of details, color, good conversations, finding balance, and being honest. Passionate lover of a well-crafted sentence - even more so if it's witty. Weird blend of cynical optimist. I'm the worst kind of woman. I'm high maintenance, but I think I'm low maintenance. Somehow, people still love me. Must be grace.
This entry was posted in relationships and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

5 Responses to -to really love a woman-

  1. Yeah, it’s actually more complicated than that. And less sappy. But hey. whatcha’ want him to sing? “When you hold her while she’s throwing up, then you really know you love a woman?”

    I really think you and Roger should offer some alternative lyrics!

    Like

  2. Joanne Hunsberger says:

    Joyce you crack me up!!! 🙂 Good thoughts, Ruthie – glad you got it figured out

    Like

  3. Steph says:

    this made me laugh pretty hard…..it also made me want to look up the song and listen to it for old times’ sake 🙂 thanks for sharing!!

    Like

  4. dhartzler2013 says:

    You writing (and Roger) inspires me to be a better husband.

    Like

  5. christina says:

    LOL, oh high school self… I loved your narration of the scene 😀

    Like

your thoughts here:

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s