YOU

Hey. You. Yes, YOU.

The older guy standing on the sidelines. The guy who looks like he's watching everyone intently. You seem to be observing but I know you're taking in the scene and the people. You read people like you'd read a good book--slowly and thoroughly, enjoying every word. You don't feel the need to jump into the scene and show off. You know your worth. It was established long ago. There's no need to be the cock in the hen house.

Your hair might be salt and peppered. Or maybe you might not have any. Maybe you've shaved what was left. Maybe you've grown a goatee or beard to look rugged. You do look rugged and you smoulder like a late-night campfire. Some of us notice your wry smiles and when your eyes crinkle in amusement. Your hands might be calloused, but I bet they're gentle when they need to be. I bet they're as strong as iron too.

You don't approach every classic beauty in the crowd. You appreciate them to be sure, but you know that not every stone shines like a diamond. Sometimes that garnet can outshine them. She might not be classically gorgeous, but she'd know what to do with you and with herself. You avoid drama and look for richer and deeper story lines.

You might be called a Dom or a Sir, but you view your role as something you were born with. You don't need a label. You own your woman because you want to and she wants to "stand by her man" whether she knows that song or not. It's how she's wired. It's how you're wired. You respect that.

You know that she wants to feel a man, not a superstar or a buff boy. She values your life experiences and what you know. You can talk her ear off, but you'd rather show her and let her figure you out by your actions. And you'll let her do that in your own time, and in hers because you're patient.

When you buy her a gift it will be meaningful or you won't bother. When you put your hand on the small of her back it's because that's your job. When you pull her head back by her hair, you will smile and know that she expects it. When you call her Baby, she melts a little inside. Still.

You don't expect her to be perfect. You don't care for perfection at all really. Once you sought it. Then sometime you figured out that imperfections in life made it more interesting. As you've aged, you've decided that perfect is not the most important thing to have and hold. God knows, you're not perfect anymore.

You know the difference between confidence and cockiness. And if you want her to consider you her Sir, then the title has to be earned. You are up to the challenge. The challenges keep you young and on your game.

Hey, YOU. Where are you? Come out. Show yourself. It's time for you to be the seeker, not the hider. Are you there? I dare you to show yourself.