Life is really simple, but we insist on making it complicated ~ Confucius
I’m going to post something that I wouldn’t usually put up. I’m always musing about life and love and my “lightbulb” moments, but I tend to try to polish them. I tend to find a direction for the post to go in, some point I want to make for myself. The other day, though, I sat down to write and what poured out of my fingers was a stream of consciousness. It’s raw and vulnerable and truly me. In my attempt to be present, brave and kind, I want to put this out to the universe, in all it’s inconsistencies and neediness, in all it’s loneliness and vulnerability. As I once again attempt to date, I’ve had to take a long hard and honest look at the decisions I’ve been making and why I’ve been making them. What I want and what I don’t want. Who I want to be and who I don’t want to be, but at the end of the day, I can only be me.
I think that I’ve been looking for the wrong thing for my whole life. What is realistic? What is real? I had a list of the characteristics, of the traits, of the feelings that needed to be there that needed to happen, for it to be “perfect” to be “the one”.
I don’t know if it’s been the experiences that I’ve had, or perhaps just simply getting older, but what I want in my life is so much simpler than lists and checkboxes and perfection. It’s so much simpler than the movie romance and the fairytale endings. Yet, it’s more complicated than checklists, characteristics and traits. It’s friendship and companionship and the ability to 100%, absolutely, be myself.
I want my own life. I want to be able to go out with my own friends and do the things that bring me joy. I have found my joy in the communities I’ve built in cycling and bootcamp and pushing my body to the limit. But also cherish time on my own, reading and writing. I want to write everything and anything I want. Simple joys too, people watching and making up stories and theories and musing about life, love and “figuring it out”. Camping and campfires with drinks and marshmallows and Smart Food. Brunches with mimosas. Road trips listening to the Tragically Hip. Bingeing on girlie shows and rom/coms on Netflix without shame or guilt.
I want him to have his own life too. His own interests, his own friends, his own set of problems. And I want him to solve his own problems.
Ultimately, what I want is simple, yet the most difficult thing to find. Truth, authenticity, vulnerability. Not as buzzwords, but as a way of life. To be completely myself with someone, in all of my insecurities, neediness, strength and aloofness. In all my contradictions. To have someone want me to be authentic and not judge me when I am. To be vulnerable and to not attack me when I am. To allow me to change my mind. To allow me and encourage me to find my own happiness and to enjoy the journey of my self discovery.
It’s about human connection, touch, support, passion, friendship and annoyance. Love. I want to choose to spend portions of my valuable time with someone who wants to share that time with me as much as I do. That wants to build something strong and uniquely “us”, in whatever that may look like. Where I can drink too much, swear too much and they still look at me with love and desire, even in all my tomboyishness. I want someone to tell me it’s all going to be ok and hold me tight, while they listen to me attempt to problem solve the issues that come up in life. I want someone to drive the van on the road trip and think it’s adorable that I sing to every song off key, but then tell me to shut up when it’s no longer cute and bordering on annoying. I want it to be 50% friendship and 50% “I want to tear your clothes off”. I want it to be supportive, but not disingenuous. I want to have a quiet confidence in the relationship and how we are feeling, because we have talked about it. I want to bitch about my partner to my partner, not to anyone else. It’s about not taking ourselves too seriously, or the relationship, but giving it the respect it deserves.
I want to take my time to choose that person. I want to be picky…I need to be picky. But when I think I may have found them, there is no other way than to give it a real shot. I don’t want to swipe endlessly believing that there is something better, that perhaps the next swipe will reveal “the one” because the one who brings me happiness is me, and the one I want, the one I choose, is sitting next to me watching Netflix and drinking beer.