I love a man who’s wild at heart.

The kind of man who walks his own path, not giving a damn what other people think of him or what society wants him to be. (Except when it comes to work—there, professionalism and quality is of utmost importance.) He’s not reckless, but deeply rooted in who he is.

He does what he wants and needs space the way some people need certainty. He can’t be tamed or placed into a box. He thinks for himself. And he thinks deeply.

He loves only a few things—but he loves them fully.

A wild man rarely speaks for the sake of it, but when he does, he says a lot with few words, and his words cut deep. He is unconventional, self-directed, and protective of the life and freedom he has cultivated.

Last late summer, I sat at a garden table with a co-worker, munching on grapes in the morning sun, when she began asking questions about my wild man:

If I don’t smoke, why don’t I try to make him quit?
If I’m vegetarian, why don’t I push him to become one too?
If I do yoga, why don’t I get him to practice with me—it would be good for him, wouldn’t it?

Recently, a friend asked me something similar: how did I get my partner to stop playing computer games?

My answer was simple:

I didn’t.

She looked at me, surprised. “You just let him play all weekend?”

Frankly, I don’t know if anyone considers these questions normal, but for me they are strange. I really hope this kind of thinking—this idea that loving someone means managing or reshaping them—doesn’t become our norm. Because then we are in big trouble.

For me, love is acceptance.

He is a wild man, and I love him as he is.

I admit, like most people, I had ideals and a detailed checklist for love. But when I met him, he quickly became special to me. Our relationship gave me things nobody ever did before: respect, emotional safety, honesty, loyalty, depth. The rest—habits, preferences, lifestyle differences—stopped feeling like deal breakers.

And trust me, smoking was a deal breaker before. But I figured, if that’s the worst thing he does, then let him. I prefer someone who’s honest but smokes than someone who doesn’t smoke and lies in my face every day.

We are each on our own path. With time, my priorities changed. If I want to be loved and accepted for who I am, I have to offer the same in return. I know I have habits that drive him crazy too—and we both try to meet in the middle, and deal with our annoying habits to make life easier for both of us.

He was fully himself when I met him. That was the man I fell in love with. A wild man cannot be domesticated. If he changes, he chooses it for himself.

Trying to remodel your feral man won’t lead to intimacy, but resentment.

Love is not a renovation project.

If I tried to change him, I believe it would damage what we have. He would feel confined; I would feel disconnected from the very qualities that drew me to him.

So what can be done instead?

Love him for who he is.

Wild-hearted people value authenticity. They don’t adapt easily just to fit expectations. They often prefer solitude over pretending to be someone they’re not—and I completely understand that. I want to feel the same, so why wouldn’t I give the exact same radical acceptance for my partner?

Don’t try to control or limit him.

Wild men might be messy, and might have their own way of dealing with things. If you try to tell him how to do life, well, he might take off. You have to trade control for trust. And surprisingly, that frees enormous energy for both partners.

Give them their space.

Autonomy is also not rejection, space doesn’t always mean distance. It means allowing your partner their own ways of coping, resting, creating, and being—even when those ways are not yours. I had to learn that when I needed closeness, he needed solitude. Now, I take it as an opportunity to work on my rejection wound and my triggers, and we bond after.

Let them love you in their own way.

A relationship with a wild man will never be as it is with any other man. Their love language is different. You probably won’t get scheduled date nights or predictable gestures. Instead, you may get spontaneity, odd little gifts. There won’t be candlelit dinners in fancy restaurants, but a messy kitchen after he tried to turn his favorite meaty dish gluten free, just so you could taste it. And instead of lukewarm sex on the weekends, he will nail you to the wall daily until you nearly faint from orgasm.

Don’t try to parent them.

Meet them as an equal adult. Helping and supporting your partner is important, but don’t go overboard with taking care of him. He ain’t a mama’s boy, and he can take care of himself, as he did for years before he met you. Instead, show him your vulnerable side and the places in your life where you need a man. He will be more than happy to show up in those places.

Keep your own life alive and be happy with it.

This might sound like a strange advice, but wild-hearted people—regardless of gender—are drawn to partners who are rooted in themselves. So don’t stop living your life just because you got into a relationship. Have your own passions. Take your own trips.

He will love you even more when you return home to him.

Relationships like this don’t always look traditionally romantic. But who cares what others think? Certainly not him.

There’s a saying: love her, but leave her wild. I believe this applies to anyone with a wild heart.

As someone who is wild at heart myself, I know what I need in order to stay open and loving: trust, space, respect, and the freedom to remain fully who I am. Offering the same to my partner is not sacrifice—it is alignment.

To love a wild man, you need to be open to not knowing where this journey takes you.

To love a wild man you need to become a little feral yourself.

To love a wild man, you need to leave them wild.

But in return, you get something rare:

A love that is chosen freely—again and again.
And that is something irreplaceable.

~

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