At work and at play, I am reminded everyday that I am, indeed, very single. Doting couples on their honeymoons and happy little well-dressed families on vacation are everywhere. Diamond rings and Uppababy wide.
Social media is awash with acquaintances and their forevers, all but scrawled on their foreheads: I AM IN LOVE!
They steal kisses and share meals, he touches the small of her back, she rest her hand on his thigh. A small spark ignites in my belly and I am made more and more aware that it is just me on this journey for now.
Not that it’s bad alone.
It’s been healing and peaceful and very, very necessary experiencing life truly single over the past year. I know myself better than I ever have—what I enjoy, what I like to eat, how I spend my time without the influence of a man.
My seventy year old friend, Cheryl, said she was single for seven years before she found her husband at 48.
“By the time I met Don, I was so used to being by myself that I was happier alone”
I’m getting to that point, I think. (I’m lying)
I don’t miss the constant compromise of a relationship, however. Or the arguing. Maybe a relationship exists out there where we don’t have to bother with those things.
But I do miss the intimacy of having a partner. The romance. The companionship. The kisses and texts and coffees and flowers and safety—the ‘to love and be loved’. The feeling of having someone to call when you’re off work is undeniable magic.
Someone to make me coffee and hold me in the night. Someone to shower with and make breakfast for… then go on a drive and listen to music with the windows down.
It’s wild to think that he’s out there, somewhere, waiting to meet me. I wonder what he looks like. I wonder what he does for fun. What does he does for work? How does he treats his mom? I hope he has a big family. I hope he can build a fire and change a tire. I hope he likes the music I like. I wonder what the kids will think of him… if they will become close.
I want to be crazy about him—not simply accept whomever comes my way because I don’t think I deserve better. I want the purest love, the unbreakable, unbendable, loyal love of a Jon Snow.
I want to feel about him the way I feel about [name redacted] but actually have him return my feelings and claim me and spoil me and make me his. I want to run my fingers through his hair while he kisses me. I want the spark, the fire, the aching in my bones. I want the safety, the peace, the laughter. I want [name redacted] so badly.