cedar

Sit down children. It's story time.

A long time a go, in a galaxy far far away, the first man and the first woman in the universe decided to sit down and have a conversation about their lives. The woman told the man about her hopes, dreams, and desires. She had thought she'd made it very clear that all this information was truly more about sharing than it was about complaining. She told the man about her need for affection and nurturing, her drive to create beautiful things, and how she wanted to experience life to the fullest and see what the universe had to offer her. The man however, had always been content just knowing that the woman would be his. That he could provide for them, and flourish in the sanctity of their small corner of existence. When the woman explained that she wanted more, the man took this as an attack on his character. Immediately confused as to what exactly it was that the woman wanted, and how he could possibly provide it for her, he became increasingly frustrated. He felt as if the woman was unhappy or ungrateful for the things they had together, and that somehow he had failed.

This was the beginning of the end my friends. With the very first woman and very first man, an eternal cycle of fear, distrust, awe and heartache between the sexes was born.

There are two things I know to be true about women. One, we know exactly what we want, down to the very last detail. It's almost an exact science at this point. Two, women will never tell you what they want. We're too busy lying to ourselves about our expectations and standards, what we think we do and don't deserve. And because of the fear of rejection or honesty or whatever, we're lying to you even more.

When I was a child, I never had any interest in playing "house". Not unless I was cast as the amazingly successful sister, a college student studying the arts and sciences, creating, growing, researching the heavens and curing cancer or something. I was never interested in playing the mother or the baby. Just wasn't into it. I used to say that when I grew up, I wanted to be a paleobotinist, a forensic pathologist, or a stripper. I had never been interested in children, commitment, or settling down. Then I hit twenty, and out of nowhere my whole perspective changed. I found myself envying my married friends, lusting after that long-term relationship. Wanting the comfort of knowing someone will be there at the end of the day, everyday. But why? What was so appealing about committing myself to one person, who would probably and inevitably fail me? Everything in my body was screaming, "Go find a husband!" and everything in my brain was screaming, "I'd rather bash my face into a brick wall, thank you!" Each instinct was just as strong as the other; one to protect myself, and one to fulfill a desire I didn't understand why I had. It was terribly loud inside my head, almost painful to experience at times. I was constantly aggravated and exhausted from dealing with the conflicting motivations. Exhausted, that is, until I started listening to myself. Why was I fighting so hard, and what the hell was I so scared of? I had very much gotten it backwards. Society didn't tell me I wanted a husband and to settle down. Quite the opposite; society told me I was to young or stupid to want such things. Hence the automatic reaction for my brain to freak out at the idea of going through months, possibly years of continuous searching and heartache, when I could just be happy being single. But the more I listened to my body, the more I realized that there was something inside of me that knew what I needed, and what I was supposed to be doing. I guess it was looking for a significant other. Some part of me knew that I would never really feel complete unless I was fulfilling one of my purposes - to be of something great; to be an influential and balancing force in someone's life, someone who needed me as much as I needed them. Since I've stopped fighting this urge, yes, I've felt some heartache. But I've also felt considerably less anxiety, stress, and pressure. I had been attempting to swim upstream. Accepting that this is what I wanted took thousands of pounds of pressure of my heart. It was as if simply admitting the truth of my desire opened up room for so many other things to breathe and blossom. I'm more focused, happier, and pretty content with most of the life decisions I've made lately.
I haven't found that special "someone" yet. And right now that's okay. As long as I'm honest with myself about what I'm really after, I know that I'll find it in due time.

Agree with me? Disagree with me? It doesn't really matter. This is part of my truth. Feel free to post a little of your own.