I’m not the girl that loves being alone.
I can do it, sure. For periods of time. Even within a relationship. Sometimes for as long as hours apart! (Mostly kidding, but not entirely). Look, I simply don’t need much time on my own. I’m a warm, snuggly kitten.
I’ve been told I’m a little strange (but only in a very loving way). I wasn’t the little girl that dreamed of a Disney prince. No, I was the girl that fell in love with Jessica Alba and Michael Weatherly from Dark Angel– and wished they’d both get together and invite me.
I think a part of me hoped for that in real life. Since high school? Far longer than I consciously acknowledged. When I met my master, I think I hoped to become a perfect triad. I admired his then wife, after all. I remember thinking she was beautiful.
(To hear me speak of her now, you wouldn’t know that. But a lot has changed since I first became caught in her sophistication. I thought she might even be worthy of my submission.)
Alas, that was mere fantasy.
I knew- even back then- that master wasn’t a package deal. His wife was never interested. He tried, yes, but you can’t push that. He dropped the idea. As did I. It’s the right thing to do when someone does not consent to your love and affection.
At some point, you have to look around and realize that fantasies are fantasies, but reality is reality. My reality meant I had to choose “only” one partner (as if that isn’t more than so many ever find!). He was not my dream couple. He was…him. For a while, being with him meant others were discouraged from seeking anything very serious with me. I accepted that, too.
Of course, I didn’t have to do anything.
At twenty-five, I had all the time in the world, right? Everyone either told me I was too young to think about commitment or asking why I hadn’t found a good guy already and I wasn’t getting any younger.
But since I looked young, I -mostly- got that I “had plenty of time and I should have fun while I still could!” I wasn’t sure which message to listen to, but I did my best to smile and nod and try to do what I was expected of me. Ah, well, nobody ever said adults made sense.
I had choices, even back then.
I could have let him go. Found someone else that could have provided me “everything.” Or I could stay with him, and limit my other options. I looked around– and I chose to try to see what would happen with him, because I honestly got more from this “casual,” part time relationship than any “real” relationship I’d tried in the past.
Turns out it’s not so bad settling when you’re settling into something warm and wonderful. And he was wonderful. I came to understand that I didn’t really need more than him. He was so much! I loved him, and he loved me. What more could I really want?
Okay, okay, sure. I might have still wanted a little more.
I wanted my goddess, too. Or whatever it ended up being. Living in a house with seven men appealed to me on a certain, primal level. Instead, I settled for him (as he did with me, making the choice to make me his kitten, to make me part of the his new foundation.)
Settling, choosing. We’re told it’s so terrible. “Don’t settle!” But we’re also asked, “So when are you going to settle down?” I don’t understand the mixed messages, and I no longer care. I don’t think it’s “bad” or “good.”
It just is.
Life doesn’t work any which way, unless you direct it so.
I’ve been told time and time again, “Life doesn’t work like that!” in response to a lived experience of mine. But it worked for me. Whatever you want to work for you (again, so long as you don’t defy laws of physics or biology or something) can and will work for you.
Settling into love worked for me. I cannot say if it will work for you, but I can say this:
If you want it badly enough, -almost- anything truly is possible…