A person’s life never turns out the way you expect it to. There was a girl I knew in high school who was very academic minded and always seemed to be in career minded way. She got her bachelor’s degree, but she married halfway through her studies. After she graduated she became pregnant with her first child; now, she’s a stay at home mom with three children as well as homeschooling the two eldest. That is not how I expected it to be for her.
As for me, I thought I’d have a steady boyfriend by the age of 24 in the very least, maybe even married. I’m several years past that age without ever having a boyfriend or a gaggle of boys looking wistfully back at me. A few years ago, I watched as my friends went from one boyfriend to another before each one dropping off into the land of marriage, feeling a pang of jealousy at the very thought of it. Oh, how it made me lose sleep sometimes!
Now I look at this time and just laugh. Oh, what a lark I was! How to ever think that dating would ever solve my problems.
I don’t feel this jealousy anymore. Maybe sometimes, but not really. I am me and being me allows me to come home and read my book without feeling obligated to call up my man to see if he wanted to make plans for the evening. I don’t have to feel guilty for not wanting to go out.
I’m not perfect, you know. Sometimes, when I’m snuggled up in bed waiting for a wave of sleep to overcome me, I feel a pang of loneliness. Wouldn’t it be nice to have someone to snuggle up to and feel safe? Wouldn’t it be nice to have a night where I didn’t have to watch a movie alone or confide my thoughts to a diary? Wouldn’t it be nice to have someone who could tell me what they think of whatever it is I’m telling them? Sometimes those little moments of company would be grand.
But I don’t let it bother me too much. I indulge it for a while, a day or two, but then I push it away from me. Thinking about what I can’t have, what I generally don’t want isn’t going to change anything. Making myself sick with longing isn’t going to make a man jump out in front of me with all the whimsical nonsense of new love.
I made a realization the other day that I don’t have a crush on anybody that I know personally. I don’t remember ever having a time when I didn’t have a crush. Surprisingly, I’m not bothered. Having a crush hurts, you know? You like someone and you’re at the whims of whether or not they like you back. Sometimes they find out, but a lot of times they don’t, and when you don’t, you keep it secret because you don’t want them to find out and crush your dreams.
I’m probably growing older. The impulse of wanting to have it all no longer hovers over my head. My priorities have changed. I’m no longer going hold onto the hopes of what might happen. I enjoy my life and I enjoy being single. I’m tired of getting men “to like me.” If there is a man out there who secretly likes me, then I hope he’s got the courage to ask me out as I’m generally oblivious. And I don’t want to make the effort if they’re going to pretend it’s not worth it.
I’m probably not making much sense. But sense is for the senseless and I’ve got other things to do.