When I was 15, I didn’t want Prince Charming; I wanted a bad boy. Who I found was just plain bad for me.
When I was 20, I didn’t want Mr. Right; I wanted someone who was “different.” But mostly, I wanted someone to talk about incessantly. I wanted people to know I had a boy in my life.
When I was 22, I wanted someone who fit into my life plans, but I wasn’t all that willing to fit into his.
And when I was 24, I simply didn’t want to be alone.
First, I wanted the fairy tale. The fairy tale turned into a nightmare full of psychological games that left me badly damaged.
Then I rushed into an absolutely wrong match: cocky, undecided, lost–and ultimately, empty.
Soon, I started “talking” to a friend. Funny, cute, but in transition and unwilling to commit or even attempt anything more than “more than friends” with me. I loved the his job description because it was so unlike the person I thought he was, and that story was fun for a bit. In the end, though, there was no love beyond that.
I tried the sensible, settled, funny guy next, but I found it lacking in passion. I was too spontaneous, too drawn to the city, too drawn to a global presence to ever make it work. Our ideals were so different that compromise for either side would have led to nothing but resent.
When I was in the spring of 27, I looked at a friend in new light, took a chance after what could have been a fleeting kiss, and told him that I cared. But I left out the part that said I wanted someone who was willing to take a chance on me–on us, actually–and not just “talk” about visiting and how wonderful the other person was. Maybe things would have actually been different if we had been in the same city (as he told me later on), but I had ended up crossing his timeline at the wrong time. And he crossed mine at the wrong time, too.
When I was 27 and a half, I finally gave it all some thought. I wanted someone who was respectful and respectable. Someone who I would be proud and honored to stand next to. Someone whose very presence made me light up. I wanted someone with whom to create history and new stories–and someone who wanted that, too.
I needed someone who would validate me and affirm my dreams. Someone who would challenge me when I got too stubborn. Someone who could bring me back down to earth now and then, but who would also entertain the idea of communing with the clouds (to borrow a phrase).
And as for what I want for him? He should value us, together, but also as independent beings. He should value himself, but not in an egotistical sense. He should have confidence, not cockiness. He should know that he has a partner who likes him a lot, even if she is terrible at communicating that aspect verbally. He should know he’s admired.
He should know that he is so important to me, that I cannot wait to share our days’ stories with one another. He should know about the way I pretend not to wait for his next call or text. He should know that I’m always looking forward to seeing him. And I am anxious about the first kiss we share and the first trip we take and the first time I meet his family. And he should know that, even though I’m still on the fence about having my own kids, my heart will melt when he posts his latest, “My niece/nephew!” pictures. And he should know that I–in all my perceived awesomeness–am nervous about sharing my whole persona with him, from cool and sexy to vulnerable and sweet to fiery and intense.
And all too impatient, although I’m forcing myself to calm down, just wait, give it time. Just be.
I am the fire sign, the brightly burning soul who holds dreams of changing lives and of faraway lands. I dream of impacting those around me in positive, good ways; I cannot settle for an unremarkable life. I am not running “from;” I am running “to.” And through it all, I have dreams of finding that someone who ignites a whole new side of me. In turn, I hope he is receptive to what I share. I hope he catches me and grabs my hand, and we’ll share a brief glance, and like two mad men, we’ll just keep on running towards… well, we’ll just keep running “towards.”
When I was 27, I decided he would find me when he was ready and that I would live the best life for me until then. I wanted someone who could learn patience–and that someone was me.