To delve into the past, we begin with my present-future. Cohabitation impending, yet my not too distant past constantly interfering. A bi-polaresque adventure into my more-than-30 years.
One more week.
Why can’t I breathe?
Only six short months ago, I told my friend Rachel I could imagine my engagement on the Golden Gate Bridge. Engagement? I could imagine my engagement
Did I really say that? Out loud? What was I thinking? (Aside: it won’t happen on the Golden Gate Bridge. I cancelled my trip due to a lack of finances, even with a free round trip plane ticket and friends from college to stay with. I mean, we need to save all we can so we can move in together, right?) Move in together? Now I can’t breathe again. What am I thinking?
Oh yeah, I’m thinking I love him. And for the first, and only, time in my life (breathe) I found somebody.
When we first met I said it was impossible. Did I say impossible? Maybe not that exact word. I also might have mentioned, after our first night together imply what you will, I never wanted him to let me go. I actually said that out loud! Again, to Rachel, who I am finding out remembers everything.
Lord knows, in my world LOVE came a total surprise. In love that is. With each other. At the same time. Who knew it could happen to me? An internet flirtation-one weekend stand that never ended. Love found me when I wasn’t even a little bit expecting it. Just like the storybook ending, right?
My roommate Erin told our mutual friends that if she was writing my story, I would end up with this one. The atheist, lefty-leaning, artist falling in love with a R.I.N.O Republican (In Name Only) born-again not-lawyer; one with the debt of law school loans born with no desire whatsoever to practice law, who’s looking for a church to call home. It will obviously never work. But damn, it could be fun.
So since he lives out of town and at the top of my age range and unlikely to fall for me and I for him, we might as well meet, right? No harm done!
And after we meet he’s intelligent, creative, passionate, interesting and much manlier then I usually like my men. (Usual: Alex P. Keaton from Family Ties in the 80’s.) The nerds of my past are never strong in mind and soul AND BODY. And never quite so hairy, unabashedly handsome, bald, with dimples and a salt and pepper beard and well…sexy.
I exclusively fall in love, unrequited love at that, with men who are not geographically desirable. Most women prefer that a man live, oh within 30 minutes away. Me? I usually choose at least 8-12 hours away. Long distance. This way, the men I like are harmless. Too far away to make it work, right?
I need love like any other women but at arms length. I promised myself long ago I would not need a man nor would my future first born be visibly present in my wedding photos like I was.
I also never date someone in my own city that could be actually good for me and not just a delightful, accidental, six month booty call. Call me the not-30 anymore, year old woman looking for lifelong love and happiness, but not really.
Until this one came along. I can’t even tell you when he and I became us. Everything was gradual and natural. Both of us cautious, but not really. Both of us on the same page and dating or considering dating others. But not really. And then one day I woke up and we were smack dab in the middle of love. No effort involved! No talks, no games, no questions.
Within a month of our indefinable future anniversary date, we started talking about forever. The next step, moving to the same city.
According to the books I’ve read all my life? Engagement, living together, finding the one…this is what makes a woman’s life complete. And frankly, the women who do anything to make this happen or feel utterly void of existence until that elusive someday occurs annoy the hell out of me. I am not that person.
At the same time, it seems my someday is now. Somehow, I found a wonderful man who loves me right back and the somewhere is soon to be in my own backyard.
So if what I have shared so far is an accurate description of who we are together (and I have no sense to embellish my story when I have friends with impeccable memories who will vouch for my accuracy.) Why am I here, almost a year later, unable to breathe?