This week I canceled two dates, reorganized my 'To Do' lists and bought two domain names that came to me a in dream.0
Constantly spewing a contradicting battle of declarative statements, I’m as big of a flip flopper as any. One minute I want to let my hair down, travel, write, meet a multitude of people – eh, hem men – and live freely. Then the next day I’m saying on the phone to a friend, “Okay, I lost sight for a minute, but this time I’m concentrating. This time I’m buckling down to do some serious husband hunting before I’m thirty-five and no one wants to marry me.” Because you know, thirty-five year old women totally unmarriable, right?
Single or otherwise, do other women feel this way? They must. The nagging tick of our biological clocks versus the sweet taste of freedom. Why, I often ask myself, didn’t I embrace this freedom sooner? And after much thought I realized, I did. My early 20’s were chock full of partying, vacation, exploration and flirtation, in short – fun. What they lacked though was wisdom and understanding of how valuable time alone really is. I remember my mother constantly telling me that I “didn’t need a boyfriend” or “needed a break” for myself. Unable to grasp the importance of single, not as an unfortunate status, but as a nurturing lifestyle, I bounced from boyfriend to boyfriend, some more serious than others, for the better part of twelve years. On my 26th birthday, I wrote myself a stressed confused message asking the voice of god or whatever, what exactly I was doing – in work, in love, in life. Questioning my career and what I really wanted out of it and clarifying my goals – with the assistance of an eye-opening life coach – removed the focus from the opposite sex and turned it inward.
What I found surprised even a seasoned self-analyzer like…er, myself. It didn’t take years of scathing excavation to extract either. In fact, my proverbial divine light was actually already shining brilliantly for everyone to see. The only person overlooking my apparent sui generis was me, and with the realization of my talent, my potential, my undeniable strengths came a lust for freedom. I smiled. Some people live their entire lives never discovering a passion – something they love to do, desire to perfect, and aim to leave as their mark on this planet. I have that and I am free to have that. Being alone was no longer scary. (“Alone” is a term I use loosely as I’m rarely ever truly alone.)
But mother nature wasn’t a fan of embracing freedom, for a couple months later came the clock’s annoying tick tock. Visions of Burberry onesies, tricked out strollers and nursery room colors invaded my dreams. A week with my one-year-old cousin only exacerbated the ticking as I gravitated towards his every move, fascinated by each teeny developmental milestone. And shortly thereafter resumed the declarative statements. “Tessa has the right idea,” I said of a close friend. “She is focused. Why am I plagued with the inability to focus on any one guy? I am changing my ways.”
That was last week. Then Monday morning I woke up singing “Free Falling” and tie-dying everything in sight. This week, I canceled two dates, reorganized my ‘To Do’ lists and bought two domain names that came to me in a dream. Thus the battle continues. I’m hoping that my overt self-assurance will naturally attract the right mate without the need to compromise any of my freedom – hopin’ and wishin’ and prayin’.
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