I have always been very one-track minded. I wouldn’t say that it is my best trait, or even a good trait, but it’s a trait that I have grown to admit I possess. It doesn’t matter if it’s something small, like wanting to try a new iced coffee from Starbucks, or something big like redecorating my bedroom. If I get an idea in my head I trudge forward – both guns blazing – until I’ve tackled it. I wanted a MacBook and 48 hours later, I had one. I wanted a Subaru, and that evening I was the owner of a new car. White comforter, cute headboard, night stands – check. The problem is, I always get this way with things I can’t control, too. i.e.: men.
I’ve recently been talking to someone new, as I mentioned, and he’s very different than me in his communication style. I text pretty often: friends, boys, my family – everyone. I like to feel connected to people. I like to share what I’m doing with people who can’t be around. I like to give, and get, advice. I like to laugh, and joke, and sing – and maybe because I live by myself, I use texting and phone calls to feel less-alone. Not everyone is like me, though. Some people like to think about other’s and not tell them. They prefer sporadic meaningful interactions over continuous mundane communication. At least, that’s what I’m telling myself.
When I was in my last – I don’t want to say relationship – uhh, “fling,” I taught myself to be more independent. I realized that you don’t have to talk to someone all. day. long. to prove that you’re into them. That you don’t have to send nightly texts before bed, or good day vibes each morning. You don’t have to be seemingly connected, when in reality you’re not. You aren’t one soul dwelling in two bodies, contrary to what those stupid romantic quotes say. But somehow between the end of that toxic relationship I had with dipshit and the start of this new journey with far away boy I’ve forgotten this. I’ve reverted to my dependency on hearing from a boy. No matter how many other texts I get from people who matter, if I don’t hear from him for 24 hours I still somehow feel alone. Or I did, before I had a talk with myself today.
I told myself I’ve got to pump. the. brakes. I’ve never even met this man. I connected with him through work, and somehow managed to find openings for flirtation in the midst of our mundane transactional days. He’s told me – multiple times – that he isn’t very big on phone conversations or texting. Which, in. my mind, I really adore because it shows that he lives in the moment. When he calls me, he tells me that he thinks about me a lot, and finds himself wishing I could be around when he’s doing fun things, or seeing new places. I told myself this is enough, for now. That just because I haven’t heard from him in 24 hours doesn’t mean he’s out sleeping with the town whore. Or, maybe it does. But at this point, is that really any of my business? I’ve always wanted something to unfold slowly, on it’s own. Yet, I’ve somehow – over the last 6 weeks – managed to revert back to my naive nature; the girl who thinks her life should completely revolve around the hot guy who finally decided to “show” up. Except this time, I’m catching a grip before I lose my mind.
I guess the point of all of this is to make myself feel better about the lack off constant attention I feel like I’m getting. Maybe he’s honest when he says he thinks about me a lot, and he just isn’t one to share every time I cross his mind. Maybe he’s lying & he’s got a girlfriend out there in the MidWest. Whatever the truth really is, it shouldn’t have any effect on my feelings about myself. I still deserve the fairytale, even if it isn’t with him. And if, by some grace of God, he is my fairytale, I don’t need to ruin it before it even has a chance to begin. Because I’m addictive & one-track minded & a little crazy.
Pump the brakes.