I've always had a thing for alpha males: even when I was a little girl, I instinctively knew when I had come in contact with one. I'm not talking about men who swagger and boast and try to act macho—as far as I'm concerned, men like that are alpha-male wannabees. A true alpha male carries himself with a quiet self-confidence. He doesn't have anything to prove: he's comfortable in his own skin. He knows who he is, and what he wants, and how to go about getting it. He has that rare quality that we call charisma or magnetism.. And his age doesn't matter: young or old, it's just a part of his make-up.
Alpha males have fascinated me for as long as I can remember. I respond to this kind of man on a visceral level. All of my senses come alive when I'm around one of them. I suddenly become more aware of myself as a woman and intensely aware of them as a man. I've never felt more feminine than I do when I'm with one of these uncommon men.
When I was a much younger woman, I once had a relationship with a man who had these qualities, and I loved him like I've never loved another man since. I'm sorry to say that the relationship didn't work out, for reasons that I won't go into here; let's just say that I believe timing played a big factor in the failure of our relationship. It's a loss that I still feel to this day though, and one that I'll probably carry to my grave.
The thing that struck me about this man, and what made me love him so much, were the many facets of his personality. He was such a contradiction in some ways. He was a fairly big man, standing 6'1" and weighing 210lbs of lean muscle with rugged good-looks, and he had a competitive nature, which goes hand in hand with being a Special Forces soldier.
He was a man's man—tough, aggressive and self-driven, and certainly a hard man at times. And yet, he was the most gentle man with women and children that I have ever known. Never once in five years did he ever raise his voice to me in anger. In fact, when he was angry, his tone would become even more quiet, and that got my attention better than any yelling ever would have. He was never rough with me, his hands were always gentle on me even when he was angry. Although he did swat my bottom occasionally if he thought I needed it; but he wasn't rough in his handling of me.
It always struck me as odd, how this man who was trained to kill men with his bare hands if necessary, was so incredibly careful and gentle with me. He once said, as he stroked my arm tenderly, “I would never hit a woman...because they are too fragile and can be hurt too easily.” My heart twisted when he told me that, but I was silently amused too, because I realized that although he would never “hit” a woman, he had no compunctions whatsoever about spanking them, if he thought it was needed.
He was a very protective man, of women and children in general, and even more so if you belonged to him. He could be possessive at times, but yet he allowed me my freedom and space. He was an intense and passionate lover and could make me melt with just a look. I never felt so safe as I did when I was in his very capable, loving arms. His touch could ignite my blood and calm my soul like no other's. He was the love of my life, and I'll never forget him.