You don't know me from Adam

I'm re-reading from Genesis, and also working my way through Donald Miller's amazing book, "Searching for God Knows What." Both seem to land coincidentally on a man by the name of Adam. Miller talks about Adam in the garden, a huge expanse of virgin land where man and God walk together as friends without sin yet marring the communion. There is no division, no strife, no need for airs and tuxedos. Just air and breath and sun, Creator and creation. But yet, Adam feels something that he has no name for, and God sees it: Adam is lonely. Not unhappy, unfulfilled or any other un-words... but lonely. After the creation age of "it is good" God says, as if to Himself, "it is not good for man to be alone." He goes to Adam (the frameworks and blueprints of the coming helpmate already spinning through His head), and tells him to name the animals. Name them all. Adam becomes the very first naturalist, studying every one of his companions in that great Wilderness. Wandering through mountain and valley, a hundred years of study and work; and all the while he was lonely.
But oh, the rapture of that morning when he had laid down to rest and opened his eyes to find Eve... the helpmate he had been searching for and longing for all these years. The gratitude, respect, and adoration felt for her was multiplied tenfold by every year he walked the garden without her. Oh, but the timing was perfect. All he can utter in this moment are few but weighty words: "Bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh."
When I pray about my future lately, especially regarding love, I have a few specific prayers. I pray that the man I will meet is like Adam, working hard at the tasks put before him by God. And I pray that someday I will feel the way Eve must have felt on that morning. To be so cherished by a man who had needed her for so long before her arrival, to be met with such gratitude. Bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh.