Wishful thinking is dangerous.
It is easy to make excuses and pretend selfish behavior is okay. It beats the alternative. It’s better than thinking I am just not that important. So, I pretended everything was fine, until it wasn’t. I mean, come on, of course he really wants to be with me. It’s just his crazy schedule. What kind of nutjob wouldn’t think I am absolutely amazeballs? Sigh.
It was easy to pretend it was all real, nevermind the fact I hadn’t seen him in two months, and he couldn’t be bothered to call when he said he would.
It’s easy to pretend someone is fantastic when you never see them. He can be the proverbial “man of my dreams” when I don’t actually see him except in my dreams.
It’s easy to fill in the blanks when all you have is a blank canvas, even if he seems to be full of promise and potential.
It’s easy to believe he brings out a side of me that was hidden.
It’s all so damn dramatic.
Until it’s not.
It’s amazing how two months ago I was convinced my life would be painfully and irreversibly altered if he wasn’t a part of it, and now I realize it’s actually better today.
It was easy to push aside my ideas for how I want to live my life. I was perfectly willing to ignore all my grand ideas of fun and adventure for the hope of my idea of normal. I wanted to live up to the notion of what a woman should want.
A real good woman wants a family and a houseful of children. She cooks fantastic dinners for her adoring husband, who slaves away earning a living to support his family. She can get a stain out of anything. She juggles everyone’s schedule and makes it look effortless, all while maintaining a perfect nude lip. She doesn’t want to go on trips just to see something new. She would never wear red lipstick during the day. She scours Pinterest for DIY projects she always completes beautifully.
There is not a single item on that list describes me. I am messy, loud, and constantly looking for my next adventure. I like to experience things with lots of different people and can’t imagine devoting my life to just one relationship, romantic or otherwise. I wear red lipstick frequently, and have no intention of toning it down to fit in.
So, why was I so fixated on the idea of becoming some other woman? Why do I have to constantly remind myself to honor my personality? How do you forget to just be who you are?
Maybe it was the challenge. Perhaps the fantasy of too many Hallmark greeting cards took over. It’s possible I just wanted to feel like I am good enough.
Too bad it wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. I was ignoring who I am. The simple desire to be more can overwhelm even the most confident girl and we all know I am frequently a giant ball of insecurities. So, it was easy to convince myself to clutch to this idea.
Funny, it didn’t have much to do with him. Ask me what I liked about My Spy. He made me laugh. He has a nice smile. He challenged me. That’s really all I can tell you.
Once I got into it all, I just didn’t want to be that silly girl who flits from relationship to relationship. I didn’t want to be embarrassed because maybe I read too much into it. I didn’t want to appear to lack self-awareness. My flip flops are firmly grounded in reality. I certainly don’t live in some fantasyland of “not really relationships.”
I could make excuses and justify the ball of anxiety in the pit of my stomach. “Relationships are hard.” That was my mantra.
Maybe they shouldn’t be so hard. Perhaps forcing a square peg into a round hole isn’t a good idea. Maybe it’s not a hole after all. What if it is just room to grow and change? It’s quite possible I am not missing anything.
It was relatively easy to ignore who I am. It’s shockingly easier to relax and be me. Let’s see how many more times I have to learn this lesson.