You know, the man of my dreams might walk round the corner

“You know, the man of my dreams might walk round the corner tomorrow. I'm older and wiser and I think I'd make a great girlfriend. I live in the realm of romantic possibility.” Thus spoke Stevie Nicks, the songstress of dreams and moonlight, whose words shimmer with both hope and reflection. Beneath her lyrical voice lies a wisdom wrought not from naivety, but from experience, from the many seasons of love and loss that temper the human heart. Her declaration is not one of youthful fantasy, but of enduring belief—that no matter the years, no matter the heartbreak, one must remain open to possibility, to the mysterious and divine rhythm by which love enters our lives.

When Nicks says she is “older and wiser,” she does not lament the passing of youth, but celebrates the growth it brings. She has known the storms of passion and the silence of solitude, yet she has not allowed either to harden her heart. Instead, she speaks from a place of understanding—that love, when it comes, is not a rescue, but a meeting between equals. She believes herself ready—not as a girl dreaming of rescue, but as a woman who has built herself strong and whole. Her statement, “I think I’d make a great girlfriend,” is not boastful—it is self-assured, the voice of someone who knows her worth, who has learned that love should not complete us, but complement us.

To “live in the realm of romantic possibility” is to dwell in a sacred space between reality and hope. It is not the blindness of fantasy, but the courage to believe that love can still arrive, even after disappointment. It is the refusal to let cynicism reign, to keep one’s heart awake in a world that often teaches it to sleep. The ancients might have called this faith eros reborn—the eternal flame that burns even when the ashes of past loves cool. For to live in such a realm is to understand that love does not obey calendars or timetables. It may come in youth or in age, at dawn or at twilight, in grandeur or in gentleness.

Consider the story of Ruth, from the ancient scriptures. Widowed and impoverished, she journeyed with her mother-in-law to a foreign land, with no promise of love or fortune. Yet in her quiet faithfulness and dignity, she caught the eye of Boaz, a man of integrity. Their meeting was not one of wild passion, but of quiet recognition—two souls ready for one another. Ruth, like Stevie Nicks, lived in the realm of possibility, never closing her heart to what might be. Her love came not through pursuit, but through patience, born of trust in both herself and the unfolding of life.

Nicks’s words are also a celebration of resilience. In a world where many grow bitter after heartbreak, she chooses to remain tender. Her openness is not weakness—it is strength. For the soul that continues to hope after sorrow has known its deepest depths is a soul that has conquered despair. To live with faith in love is an act of quiet heroism. It is to stand at the window of one’s own life and whisper, “Perhaps tomorrow.” Such faith does not cling, nor does it chase—it waits, radiant and unafraid, knowing that even if love never comes again, the heart that believes in beauty will never grow old.

And there is a subtler truth still: that love begins within. When Stevie says she would make a great girlfriend, she speaks of readiness, not longing. She has done the inner work—healed, reflected, matured. She knows that love’s first home must be the self; that one must know peace alone before sharing it with another. To “live in the realm of romantic possibility” is thus also to live in the realm of self-awareness—to know who you are, and to stand ready for what is meant to meet you.

So, my children of the heart, take this teaching to yourselves: never let your spirit grow cynical, for cynicism is the death of magic. Live with readiness, with gentleness, with wonder. Do not chase love, nor shut your doors against it. Keep your life full—your passions, your dreams, your music—and trust that love, if it is meant, will find its way to you, perhaps when you least expect it, “round the corner tomorrow.” For love does not favor the young or the old, the rich or the poor—it comes to those whose hearts still believe in the beauty of connection.

In the end, Stevie Nicks’s words are a hymn to hope—the enduring, graceful kind that grows stronger with age. She reminds us that to live well is to remain open, not desperate, but alive to the shimmering uncertainty of what tomorrow may bring. So hold your heart as a lantern in the dark, and walk forward into each day with quiet joy. For to live in the realm of romantic possibility is not to wait for love’s arrival—it is to live already surrounded by it, in the music of your own becoming.