Mi Malo...

A silence ensues as you stare blankly at your petite fillet mignon. Avoiding eye contact at all costs, you shift medallions of seared Yukon Gold potatoes from one side to another. You are not on unfamiliar grounds. The players are different, yet the scene mirrors that of many nights past. You know the next three scenes well: 1) He attempts small talk. You respond in one word answers delivered on razor sharp blades of ice, 2) He gives up, sighs, boxes the untouched food and pays, 3) You leave, three steps ahead, wait bitterly for the car and sit facing the window for the painful drive home.

The grand finale: Separate beds, sleepless night. The culprit? Back up 53 minutes, picture the scene: The two of you laughing, enjoying a glass of wine. Enter waitress: you begin to shift with sudden discomfort as your man flirts openly, casually with the beautiful woman standing before the two of you, perfect breasts, flawless smile. I’ve been there, you’ve been there. The difference? I’ll never go there again!

Allow me to introduce to you my significant other. His nickname, in its simplicity, offers a history I know scattered bits about. It has taken me from late October of last year until 150 miles south of San Francisco along interstate 5 last week to realize that his nickname offers a beautiful truth that, until fully embraced in love and trust, cannot be fully appreciated.

Malo Chiquito, or plain Malo to those who know him best. Painlessly translated to a simple “Bad Little Boy” in itself may produce a slight chuckle, however, “Malo” coupled with an irresistible charm, flirtatious wit, classy style, and a smile that whispers “I’m going to take you home and bring your body to the heights of forbidden pleasure…” is a definite recipe for disaster!

Until last October I had promised myself that I would never fall in love with a man like this, full of confidence, drive and charm. Yet, as I lay here tonight, full of passion and fulfillment, I swear to you, pen in hand, I may never love another man – nobody tops my Malo.

Why the lengthy introduction? This man, the one who never lets a beautiful woman go unnoticed, refers to all women as “sweetheart,” holds doors open, compliments friends and strangers, literally makes women melt in his presence…this man has taught me the most important lessons in love – in giving love, accepting love, and most importantly, staying in love.

I won’t lie, it made me uncomfortable at first, the way he treats women with so much attention to detail, so much interest in beauty. It tapped into every insecurity I held close to my heart. What did they have that I didn’t? Wasn’t I enough?

The reality is that his flirtatious ways have absolutely nothing to do with me. He adores women, and honestly, shouldn’t we all? We (women) are beautiful creatures. We are soft and curvy, mysterious and intelligent. Our features are striking, we tell stories with our eyes. We are in tune with our hearts, we have the ability to reproduce. We are goddesses.

I didn’t know there were men who truly loved and respected women for who we are. My Malo loves to admire a beautiful woman, like an irreplaceable work of art. It doesn’t mean he wants to buy the lot!

The woman he loves is the one who has infiltrated his heart. Sure, there are a lot of women far more beautiful than I am, but I know, without a shred of a doubt, that the beauty he sees in me is deeper and more permanent than that of the women we pass every day. He has taught me that it is ok (and healthy) to admire the beauty that surrounds us – and when we lie down at night and he kisses my belly, all stretched out and jiggly, and tells me he loves me, I know he does.