On Monday my godfather said I was one of those people who was in relationship with the Universe.
A nice way of saying “perpetually single” I suppose.
Single is pretty sweet,
until it’s not.
I love me with me. Seriously.
I love not settling for less than what I know I want or need. I love freedom. And space. Drama free. I’m a fucking unicorn that throws her own dance parties. Seriously,
you have no idea how much fun I can be.
But I also long for chemistry.
Making eyes with somebody that means something to me. Tacos on a Tuesday with a man who laughs & leans in, at MY flavor of energy.
A sturdy playmate who,
(maybe, one day, a baby.
says the T mama in me.)
Culture is funny in its programming, you think nothing of it while it’s happening, and later you realize it’s laid track for so many things. Friends & their apologetic/complementary commentary (“you’re so amazing, someone great is coming, how are you singe?”). The erroneous belief that it’s easier to get struck by lightning then married after forty. The way these things unexpectedly embed themselves in our psyche. Taunting us with outdated programming that something is wrong with us if we’re “still” single.
Personally, I have some relationship trauma, wounds, & history. Things that have made this aspect of my life more difficult for me. And I don’t always share these things so freely. Because honestly, my herstory belongs to me. The #metoomovement is real & takes a #fuckton of courage
I keep myself close & tend to my own healing.
(this world of tell all does not always resonate with me).
I choose to believe I am not what has happened to me.
I trust that eventually a man will show up that can see me, & meet me, & appreciate me.
And when he arrives,
I will be ready.
Because I am not looking for someone to complete me.
I am looking for someone
Or at the very least
to their own journey.
Solo is sweet. A sanctuary of infinite possibility. But honestly, I am ready to meet my match & enter into the realm of relational discovery. .