The Truth of the Matter

I love love.  I honestly do.  I love the stories.  The butterflies. The delightful little things that the emotion makes you feel.

But the truth of the matter is that I love other people's love.  I have never been that girl, you know. The one that looked for Mr. Right.  I much preferred Mr. Hot(mess) and interesting.  I never wanted to marry the hot-messes.  They were highly entertaining and able to make me laugh, two qualities I find admirable.

Some girls picture their wedding or husband- the gallant knight in armor.  They meet, fall in love, have 2.5 kids/ a dog/ a white picket fence and live happily ever after.  I always pictured myself with kids.  Always. I never pictured the husband or the lifestyle to go with it.  I figured that we could be bohemian gypsies. Have adventures and be pirates or recluses or get off the grid.  I never envisioned a husband to go with it because they're kinda bossy.  And opinionated.

I like a man to be a man.  To be decisive and intelligent and a leader.  I know that in a relationship someone has to drive and someone has to co-pilot. I believe in this algorithm. I believe in the institution of marriage with roles and hierarchy- logically. Emotionally, I happen to hate being dictated to.  The idea makes my skin crawl. I would be lying if I didn't admit that I also really like to drive some days.  I do. Fast with the windows down and the music up. I feel free.

I am an oxymoron.

I only like falling in love to the point that it feels easy and light.  Once it starts to feel like a cemented bond I'm not a fan.  I know that's not a girl thing to admit to. The idea that my freedom holds more allure than stability. That whenever I start to feel hemmed in by a relationship I lay on the ground and have a panic attack.  I feel heavier. Weighted. My kids sigh, step over me, roll their eyes.

I love love though.  I have been in multiple weddings, hooked people up (in a non-invasive way of course), and I always encourage the girl to stay with the guy she loves. I'm happy when they make babies and I babysit once the kids come around so that they can have "date nights" and rekindle the romance.  Make more babies.  I have an affinity for babies (other peoples.  I like the returnable kind).  I'm happy when they are happy and I never feel resentful when I am relegated to the "call when I have a minute" status.  Good for them and love. Just thinking about it makes me feel that all is right in the world.

... thing is while they are falling in love I am having meetings with people with a lot of letters behind their names like Esq. or PhD.  While they are cooking dinner together I'm at the poetry cafe/ dancing/ art opening/ African-Asian fusion restaurant that I walked into because my feet followed my nose. While they are raising babies I am at a rooftop bar on an island. While they are becoming one I am learning myself anew and finding eccentric friends in random places.

That's the truth of the matter- I've never seen any couple make their coupledom look to them as exciting as my singleness is to me. It all seems so Meh. I am slightly embarrassed that I feel like that.  It feels like hubris. I wish I could want to want to be that other girl. The settling down kind one. If for no other reason than to fit in with cultural norms but I don't.  I like me.  That girl's a fun girl. I'll keep her.

small disclaimer- This isn't to say that I don't want a ring.  Eventually. I love love.  It's saying that for a ring to be a possibility then the man in question would have to offer the possibility of more good times than is currently true in my life. Maybe I'll get married after AARP sends me a subscription.

In other, slightly related, news V Day has come and gone and I am successfully not in a situation.  Yay adulting. Maybe I'm making some strides after all. No situation, able to admit that I'm more of a Marilyn than a Jackie.  I think it's the blogging.  Sometimes you just have to say it and leave it.

Check.

Dewberry