What Do You Want?

I feel like I’m living that scene from The Notebook lately. Continuously. Every single moment of my little life. You know the one I’m talking about. The one where Noah says (ahem, screams) “What do you want?” about 35 times and poor Allie just stands there crying. Well, I’m Allie. Hi.

The older I get, the more this on screen moment resonates with me.
I literally. Do not. Know what I want. Ever.
I used to be a very hopeful, very engaging, very social, very hungry girl. And then, I hit 27 ½  years old and everything I used to desire changed. I changed. I used to search for things to do on Friday nights – I’d get dressed up in a cute outfit and hope the hot boy I had been talking to would ask me to hangout. I’d go for a walk by the river, hoping I’d bump into someone intriguing along the way and have a chat. I would plan after work get togethers, and lunch dates, and ice cream runs. I would look forward to drinking, and eating snacks, and playing games. I would post pictures of everything I did online for everyone to see. I would eat 2 breakfasts, and 3 snacks, then lunch and dessert – twice. I would strike up conversation with anyone and everyone who gave me a second look. I would giggle, and flirt, and try new things. I would pursue men, and tease them, and taunt them until they came back for more.

But these days, none of that seems necessary. or interesting.

Don’t get me wrong – I like to talk with people. A lot. I love words & connections & everything that light conversation brings. Except, the future. I don’t want to spend time with you at Baked Bear getting ice cream, then run to Target, and back home to watch a movie. I don’t want to drive up to Tahoe for the day – hiking, lunch, sunset. I want to sit on my couch, with a few pieces of chocolate, and no pants, and share a conversation with you from the comfort of my own home via a screen at the end of a long day. I don’t want to lead you on, or make you wonder what I’m thinking – but I understand that is exactly what my actions likely do. Hey, you, c’mere. Talk to me. Talk to me all day. Okay now go, go away. I’m tired. Wait come back. Okay go, go.

At the same time, though, I don’t want to be a hermit. (at least, not all of the time). I know what you’re thinking. I literally just described all of the things I do not want to do. And they all involve interacting with other people. (I’m confused, we know). What I want is to be able to do things on my terms. I want to be selfish. And a little inconsiderate. (which, I don’t think I’ve ever been before). If I want to go grab coffee, I want to text you on a whim. I don’t like to have a set date to look forward to, like most women. Dates don’t excite me. They make me nervous. They give me anxiety, and that gives me all the more reason to back out. If I want to come over, I’ll probably decide that on my way home from a casual drive around the city, or when I’m ¾ of the way home from a friend’s house & catch a second wind. I won’t know 3 days ahead of time that on Thursday at 9:46PM I’ll miss you & be ready to see your face. When I want visitors, it doesn’t happen in advance. Some days work & the gym are really daunting, and I’d hate to bail on a 2 week long laid out plan because I’m just not feeling it that evening anymore. I want to watch a movie at the drop of a hat. I want to eat ice cream very sporadically. I want to be alone more often than I want to be with other people.

And all of this, that up there, the rambling – I read it back, and it sounds absolutely ridiculous. And impossible. I know that. You can’t expect anyone’s schedule to conveniently line up with yours when you’re ready – but that’s where I’m at right now. This place where I want to do me. I want to do me, and I want you to be there waiting for me when I’m ready. And I guess maybe that is why I’m single. Because I don’t have the desire to inconvenience myself for your benefit. For a long term benefit. For, in the long run, MY benefit.

It’s so silly of me to even bring Nick Jonas into this, but his song Bacon pretty much nails this whole idea right on the head. (Thanks to my big brother for that one).

And you know what the crazy thing is? All of this could change tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow I won’t be so worried about myself. Maybe I won’t randomly feel like crap, and I’ll be able to make a solid plan with you without wondering if I’ll be miserable throughout the entire thing.  Maybe I won’t worry that things won’t work out between us and I’ll have to awkwardly let you down and pretend we never met. Maybe I won’t feel like a whore because I like attention, and be able to attract it again. Maybe, tomorrow, I’ll be hopeful and ready. But that’s tomorrow. And tonight is tonight. And this is who I am right now.

And I’m sorry (but also – I’m not).



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