The other day I hugged a guy with arms bigger than my own and I swear if I had the power to make time stop I would have. Don’t confuse this comment with desperation, I am not desperate, I am starved. Starved of affection from someone who isn’t my friend, isn’t my relative and isn’t the sweet little child of one of my friends or relatives.

I know that this is a very delicate subject to talk about and if I am not careful I could be perceived as someone who is on the verge of going to Redondo Beach to get a “special” massage. But no, that is not the case. I am just expressing what it feels like to be a single girl who doesn’t hang out at the bar scene on a regular basis and hasn’t gone on a date for what seems like years. Actually, if I were a dog it would be years.

For so long I was doing so well at not caring if I had man-arms in my life, I would pride myself on changing the oil in my car and not needing man the way other single girls seem to always have to have one. When hearing how irritated some of my friend’s were with their husbands and how stressed out they were with their kids, I counted my blessings that I didn’t have to deal with such irritations. But now all of a sudden, I find myself a little bitter that I don’t get to partake in the “my husband or my boyfriend” conversations.

Honestly, I think this new serge of neediness for man-arms started after attending a funeral last week. I was sitting in the church, sandwiched by two couples mourning the loss of a man who died of cancer after a four and half year battle. He was a police officer, a friend and a son, but above all he was a husband and father. That was his best role in life. His beautiful wife, Lee and their two little girls, Ashley and Madison, were so strong, so poised as they honored a man who will always be there hero.

As I sat there I couldn’t help but think of my own life and what I was missing out on. I know I could be criticized for thinking of myself during a time when I all should be thinking about is how tragic it is that two little girls will have to live without their daddy and how Lee has to go to bed at night without her husband, but I couldn’t help it. I just kept thinking what if die before I experience that kind of love, the kind of love that is unconditional, trusting and most of all ever-lasting.

Here I have been thinking I am the lucky one who doesn’t have to deal with kids screaming all night because they are teething or a husband who can’t put his dirty socks in the laundry. But really, they are the lucky ones.

I have complete faith that “Mr. man-arms” is right around the corner waiting to give me a time-stopping hug.

I also now have complete faith that love isn’t about perfection or being able to predict a happily ever after. Love is about commitment and trust in one another, its about taking a chance on another person and no matter what the outcome is, if in the end they are still your hero, well then, you can always consider yourself one of the lucky ones.