**** in a box
Sex - Male or Female.
Race - Pick one.
Sexual Orientation - Pick one (and you must)
From an early age we are asked questions and forced to pick an answer. We are taught to color within the lines. We are taught to pick a side, that there are winners and losers. I have tried my entire life to understand the box system, to try and figure out which one I belonged in, which one I found the most comfort in. I've tried the good girl, the bad girl, the preppy girl (yes there was a time I wore color), the boho chic, the rocker girl, the traditionalist. I've been the life of the party and then the girl who never goes out. I've drank too much and then I've drank too little. I've gone all in and I've abstained.
But what happens when you hopscotch all the boxes and land at the end? I've never really fit into them. For a period of time I can play the part, I can feel comfortable there, I can embrace it, I can give people what they need. I love going out, I love parties, I love people, I'm outgoing, but as such, it can be incredibly exhausting. I can walk into a room and instantly feel the energy, instantly know who I need to be, feel what people are going to want from me. I can maintain. I even enjoy it. But eventually I grow restless. I grow tired of the requirements and the push pull that people want from me. I need to retreat, go back to my safe space, free of the labels and the boxes, wondering if anyone will ever really understand me.
My life timeout has given me plenty of time to enjoy being alone, but I always knew there would come a time when I would have to step outside, resume the life game, see if maybe someone out there would understand my complicated nomadic soul. This weekend I went on a date. My first one in Ohio, not for lack of suitors, but for lack of interest - on my part. This was really no different, but friends set us up, so I politely obliged. Several people upon learning he was a doctor became much more intrigued than before, interesting given his profession is of no reflection on me, but somehow it becomes that way. Everyone's first words were "he makes a lot of money!", mine were "he has a lot of student loans!". I get called jaded and pessimistic - and I am - but I'm also aware that what I look for, what I desire and want in a man, is very different than others - perhaps there is no box for it.
I want someone who is passionate. Yes, I want them to make a decent amount of money and health insurance is a requirement, but I want them to sell me on it. Sell me on the reasons they do it, why they go there each day, why they picked it, what they gain from it. And if they hate it, I want them to sell me on that too. Is it a means to an end? Is there a goal? Are they killing time until they figure out what they really want? SELL.ME.ON.IT. Have conviction. Have passion.
I am not interested in checking the marriage box just because it is the next one on the list. Perhaps I'll never check it. I want too. But that's not the goal. The point of the exercise is human connection, finding someone who makes me better, someone who I can make better, someone who pushes me and drives me and provides me with a perspective I'm unable to reach on my own. The doctor was engaging. His profession is of no reflection on me, but every bit one of him. He is passionate and driven and I have no idea if I'll know him 5 minutes or 5 years - and it doesn't matter.
I'm stepping back outside and even though everything has changed, nothing is different. There are still expectations and assumptions and people waiting around every corner with an opinion and pen - hoping I'll finally check a box - needing me to fit into one of them - any of them. I will continue to play life's hopscotch game. Continue to play different parts and wander in and out of different boxes, but this time around it's not because I don't know who I am - it's because I do.
I am confident someday I'll meet someone who understands my complicated restless soul, my box free system....
....until then I'll just be hanging out in my triangle.
Race - Pick one.
Sexual Orientation - Pick one (and you must)
From an early age we are asked questions and forced to pick an answer. We are taught to color within the lines. We are taught to pick a side, that there are winners and losers. I have tried my entire life to understand the box system, to try and figure out which one I belonged in, which one I found the most comfort in. I've tried the good girl, the bad girl, the preppy girl (yes there was a time I wore color), the boho chic, the rocker girl, the traditionalist. I've been the life of the party and then the girl who never goes out. I've drank too much and then I've drank too little. I've gone all in and I've abstained.
But what happens when you hopscotch all the boxes and land at the end? I've never really fit into them. For a period of time I can play the part, I can feel comfortable there, I can embrace it, I can give people what they need. I love going out, I love parties, I love people, I'm outgoing, but as such, it can be incredibly exhausting. I can walk into a room and instantly feel the energy, instantly know who I need to be, feel what people are going to want from me. I can maintain. I even enjoy it. But eventually I grow restless. I grow tired of the requirements and the push pull that people want from me. I need to retreat, go back to my safe space, free of the labels and the boxes, wondering if anyone will ever really understand me.
My life timeout has given me plenty of time to enjoy being alone, but I always knew there would come a time when I would have to step outside, resume the life game, see if maybe someone out there would understand my complicated nomadic soul. This weekend I went on a date. My first one in Ohio, not for lack of suitors, but for lack of interest - on my part. This was really no different, but friends set us up, so I politely obliged. Several people upon learning he was a doctor became much more intrigued than before, interesting given his profession is of no reflection on me, but somehow it becomes that way. Everyone's first words were "he makes a lot of money!", mine were "he has a lot of student loans!". I get called jaded and pessimistic - and I am - but I'm also aware that what I look for, what I desire and want in a man, is very different than others - perhaps there is no box for it.
I want someone who is passionate. Yes, I want them to make a decent amount of money and health insurance is a requirement, but I want them to sell me on it. Sell me on the reasons they do it, why they go there each day, why they picked it, what they gain from it. And if they hate it, I want them to sell me on that too. Is it a means to an end? Is there a goal? Are they killing time until they figure out what they really want? SELL.ME.ON.IT. Have conviction. Have passion.
I am not interested in checking the marriage box just because it is the next one on the list. Perhaps I'll never check it. I want too. But that's not the goal. The point of the exercise is human connection, finding someone who makes me better, someone who I can make better, someone who pushes me and drives me and provides me with a perspective I'm unable to reach on my own. The doctor was engaging. His profession is of no reflection on me, but every bit one of him. He is passionate and driven and I have no idea if I'll know him 5 minutes or 5 years - and it doesn't matter.
I'm stepping back outside and even though everything has changed, nothing is different. There are still expectations and assumptions and people waiting around every corner with an opinion and pen - hoping I'll finally check a box - needing me to fit into one of them - any of them. I will continue to play life's hopscotch game. Continue to play different parts and wander in and out of different boxes, but this time around it's not because I don't know who I am - it's because I do.
I am confident someday I'll meet someone who understands my complicated restless soul, my box free system....
....until then I'll just be hanging out in my triangle.