Let’s just dive right into it. The Holiday Season was a glorified dodgeball tournament. Target: Me. Object of Choice: Questions. The inquiry, of course? “So, do you have a boyfriend?” “Is there a ‘someone special’ we should know about?”
Go back to the pumpkin pie, kids, Mama’s got this one. No, I don’t have a boyfriend. And before you say the thing about me almost being 25 and unwed (the absolute horror), I’ll just stop you right there. I’m in a really good place. Personally. Socially. Mentally. Physically. Everything is in line. I feel genuine excitement in my career. I have some pretty sweet friends, if they do say so themselves. Mentally—I’m stable. I’m strong, I’m healthy. Physically, like, I’m not gonna lift any crates or anything, but, I mean, I do Pilates.
It’s like I’ve been at at this glorious picnic. And then someone comes over and drops a grenade. And, believe it or not, nuclear devices just don’t mix well with the lemonade.
But not only is it dropped, it’s dropped without warrant. Because my picnic was fine before. There were no signs of distress, no indications of warfare. I was fine before.
I’m almost 25 years old. For all intents and purposes, my life feels ideal, exactly as I want it to be. But at this age, screw that, how is my love life? Anybody special? Like clockwork. You set off the grenade. You asked the question. You’re 24 years old and suddenly you’re 40, three kids in the backyard playing with Baxter (yes, he lives this long). But who’s standing next to you? Who’s the Mr.?
I will concede that it’s been a funny thing when love has come along. We all react to love in our own unique, very nuanced ways. Personally, for a long-lasting relationship, I like to start with the Question Everything mode, slowly devolving into the Necessary Distance phase, followed finally by what would appear to be Cautiously Healthy Happiness land. I’m a real catch, guys.
And in spite of, or maybe in light of the fact that I’m so content with my position in life, even when the right guy comes along, sometimes you’re just not ready. As Ted said in How I Met Your Mother, “all you need is chemistry and timing.” But as Robin followed, “timing is a bitch.” I actually think that’s one of the most underrated heartbreaks. The love you can see, you can feel. The love you know is there because you see it right in front of you. And it’s it. It’s the real fricken deal. The Blake Griffin of loves. The “you are my sunshine, my only sunshine” kind of loves.
But you can’t take it. You’re not there yet. You’re not ready. So, you let it go. You let go of your perfect love hoping maybe it’ll come back again. Maybe you’ll find another. Maybe it’ll come back.
So, at this point, there is no “Mr.” There is no “someone special.” You are the “someone special.” Keep it up. The world is waiting on your ass to shine. As Mufasa once said, “remember who you are.” You’re allowed to love your life—alone. So, do it. It’s fun, I promise. And when you’re ready, we’ll see. We will see.
You can say say a lot about this single gal, but you sure as heck can’t say she doesn’t know how to pick a pajama set. Or talk in the third person