I have realized through my recent, brief and unsuccessful foray into the world of widowed dating that I am most definitely not looking for Jeff. It is not that I am measuring how certain men stand up to the man that Jeff was. It’s that I am looking at them through not only my eyes, but Jeff’s as well.

Yesterday, as I stood in line at the bank, I furtively checked out a spiky haired, bad-ass in a leather jacket. “Yummy…”, my inner voice whispered. “Yeah and check out his studded ass!!!” my ‘inner Jeffrey’ bellowed with mirth in reference to the bejeweled rivets decorating curliqued crucifixes on the man’s back pockets.

Hmmmm….Now that Jeff pointed out these…uber-embellished buttocks, I couldn’t help but also notice the overdone and excessive use of flaming skulls on his motorcycle helmet clutched in his hand.

I realize that Jeff’s ‘voice’ is also my own, but it is with the remembered view of Jeff’s world that causes me to see these guys as he would and choose my action accordingly.

I’d not looking for Jeff (he was one of a kind); I’m just hoping to find someone that Jeff wouldn’t refer to in derogatory terms….such as ‘Mr. Fancy Pants’.

And, yes, I know I shouldn’t judge a man by the copious amount of rhinestones on his pockets….but, occasionally, Jeff and I do.