Would you stick to the same company, car, house, phone or computer for your entire life? What about your friends?
People grow and evolve and have different experiences, and things change over time: feelings, opinions. We don’t always grow together, so I refuse to wrap my head around the idea of marriage. It’s hard work. I cannot control another person, but have some control over my personal future. I believe in love, but I question marriage.
I’m not best friends with the same person I was 20 years ago. Why on earth would I be as madly in love with the same man 20 years from now?
I love being a homebody. I catch up on sleep, quiet time, and if I’m lucky, watch some trashy TV while I work on a creative project. Always take advantage of downtime. No FOMO here!
When I was young, my dad told me that symmetrical was boring, that slight imperfections made people beautiful. He was reassuring me that while the scar on my nose from my brother would always be there, that it would give me character.
Slight imperfections are beautiful. I realized as I got older and wiser that classic pretty is a bit boring because it’s everywhere in magazines and on TV. Then I thought about all imperfections in my friend circle. Aysmmetry and tiny flaws are endearing; they make you more human. And scars can be sexy. They are battle wounds; they are visual evidence of your history.
But it extends beyond that. What about wanting to cover up other flaws? Beyond your surface skin, what about your surface life?
This sums up my time with “Boy With No Shoes.”
We had a great story of how we very randomly met on the street, and the chemistry that followed. We enjoyed a fun, sweet, wild year-long on-off roller-coaster ride that I thought would turn into something more serious. I’ll never forget our moments. I made the most of them, because I knew they would be fleeting.
I so wanted to love you “Lawyer Boy,” but you weren’t ready, and neither was I. Now we are both in committed relationships, but I’ll always wonder what could have been.
I learned a new medical term this morning: Post-coital dysphoria. PCD is the feeling of sadness, anxiety, or irritability after having s-e-x. The post-S blues. About a third of women experience this at some point in their lives.
I’m an extremely independent person; I love being alone and always have. At a very young age, I learned that I couldn’t rely on anyone but myself. This is just a natural feeling that comes from neglect and, in my case, unexpected deaths of people on whom I depended. Or certain people not being by my side during catastrophic events. At the end of the day, you only have yourself.
Abandonment in childhood bleeds into adulthood, manifesting itself in other ways. PCD may very well be one of them. I get sad sometimes when my boyfriend leaves in the morning, even if I know I’ll see him later in the day. It’s strange: My brain is trained to think that every goodbye is the last goodbye. The other night, I cried my eyes out when he didn’t pick up his phone. He was going to leave his house soon to come to mine for dinner, yet over an hour had passed and he wasn’t picking up the phone. I immediately think death. A cheater wouldn’t make that mistake.
If you don’t let anyone in, you avoid being hurt. While love is great, it is a great risk and a roller coaster I’m safer not riding. Like PCD, well, if you don’t do it in the first place, you don’t have to deal with the aftermath.