Sunday, July 3, 2011
It's that time of year.
I'm single. Which is either totally unbelievable considering how normal I am [no, really, I'm almost cookie cutter all American girl...almost], or totally believable considering the level of crazy that is my life most of the time. Maybe a combination of both. But what I've really come to realize this season, as I watched a couple that I've know a couple years now finally tie the knot, is that the true reason that I'm single is because I just haven't found him yet. I don't know who he is, but I do know this. It'll be right. And I'll know it.
I've always kind of just known when it comes to things. I knew what kind of car I wanted when I started driving, and even though it was slow in coming, I got it. I knew what prom dress I wanted as soon as I came across it on the rack. I knew what college I wanted to go to after seeing one ad in a magazine. I knew what I wanted to major in after one semester in the introductory course. I knew who I wanted to intern with after the initial office visit and without having gone to any others yet. And I know that when I finally meet That Guy I'll just know. Maybe not right at first, because I'm not sure I believe in love at first sight, but after getting to know him a bit, I will know. Because that's just part of who I am. I know things.
But I don't think this is the point of the post. The point is that I'm bombarded, on all sides, everyday, with the idea that coupleness is key. Commercials. TV shows. Movies. Magazines. The internet. It's all over the place and recently I've been really down about my current status. But I'm working on moving on. I've hit points like this before, and I know it will pass, but at this point, it's depressing.
I came to the ultimate reason as to why I'm single. And I'll post it. It's been sitting as a note draft on my facebook for months, so I figure I'll share it. Here you go:
I can't date. I can't.
I'm too much of dreamer.
I don't spend enough time in the real world, so despite everything around me saying that it's foolish, I still believe in that fairytale.
The one where the whole universe conspires to bring that someone into your life and everything just clicks.
You just know.
There doesn't need to be any big climactic scene, just real life, real real life.
One day you wake up, turn over, and he's there.
And all you can do is grin like a damned fool because there are no words.
There are no strings of letters and syllables that could explain the magnetism between you and him, the intense yearning in your chest, in your soul, to stay as close as possible - to crawl into his skin with him, be a part of him, just as he is inexplicably a part of you.
Expressions do nothing to illustrate the aching in your fingers and arms thinking about him, longing for a touch, an embrace; they cannot adequately portray the tingling in your skin as you remember the caress of his lips and the sweep of his fingers down your body; and they lack the depth to describe the heights to which your entire body soars when he stares at you with those eyes, those deep, soulful orbs, that fill with nameless emotions so thick you begin to wonder whether it's all just a dream.
Nothing could possibly begin to convey the excitement and contentment coursing through your veins and churning so violently in your stomach that you think you might be sick - and that's only if you don't end up in tears first, from both joy and earth shattering fear because something so good, so pure, so wonderful couldn't possibly last forever.
And when he opens his eyes and smiles at you through heavy lids and sheet indentations on his face, it's like you've entered free fall.
Suddenly there's nothing, nothing at all except the emotions that you're trying so desperately to hide because your eyes are cast back over your shoulder waiting for that other shoe to drop.
The one where you learn something that changes everything, and not for the better... but then he touches your face. A soft, tender, almost tentative brush that both soothes the unsettled feeling and burns across your skin, and when you meet his eyes, they're filled with - with what?
It doesn't matter.
The smile tells you everything you need to know at that moment.
And with that one short realization, the feelings and emotions that had been threatening to boil over are slowed to a simmer.
It means that he's not disappointed that you're the first person he saw when he woke up.
And that says a lot about a man.
It means that he wants you there, beside him, tangled hair, sleepy face, and knotted stomach.
It means that he loves you and that all of those unexplainable, over-the-top, make you sick and euphoric simultaneously feelings aren't just stuck in your body; they're exploding in his as well.
And then, and then.
And then, being unable to contain himself as well as you had, he leans forward and touches a brief, but lingering kiss to your lips, igniting the powder keg that is your chemistry.
He loves you, that you know.
And that's all you really ever need to know.
Everything else is just details.
So there it is. That's why I can't just date any guy and why I'm still single.
My expectations are through the roof. My imagination has run so wild with this that I almost feel like there isn't a guy out there who will ever meet them. Or maybe it's not the guy. Maybe it's me. Maybe a part of me - a large part of me - is terrified that this isn't what love will feel like. I think that's the biggest issue. I'm abso-fucking-lutely scared shit-less that I'll never find this. I'll never find someone that I'll feel this way about. And nobody will ever feel this way about me. So I don't try. Maybe that's it. In fact, I'm almost sure that's it.
But really, what do I know? I'm just a totally average, slightly insane, overly hormonal, well educated, single, twenty-something female with barely enough life experience to fill a coffee cup.