Every now and then I'll peruse what I've written here over the last several years, and I did that recently. Mostly because I've kind of "come out" as a blogger and wanted to make sure there wasn't anything floating around that I wasn't comfortable with. But I noticed something I already mostly knew, which is that I'm a little schizophrenic regarding the whole idea of a relationship.
Sometimes? I'm ready. I want it. I want that partnership. I know what I'm looking for (which implies I am actively looking). And other times? Nope. Don't want a relationship, much less a marriage. I'm very happy and content as is and can't imagine a relationship improving my life.
The reality is, I want a relationship, and I don't. And the idea of wanting one, and not wanting one at the same time, coexists comfortably in me, and that is exactly how I want things.
I have had love in my life. I know what it's like. I know what I'm "missing." But I don't really feel like I'm missing anything. Sometimes I wonder if, in my quest to be sure I am happy, every day, with my life exactly how it is that day, I have gone too far? If I have done too good of a job of building this life of mine, without a mate, to look back, or ever have room for a significant other? But if that's true...I have a hard time seeing the downside. Because I am happy, every day, with my life exactly (give or take a little, of course) how it is.
I know that Sarah will grow up and have her own life, which is what I want for her. And she certainly will never be responsible for entertaining me. But I make friends easily, and I don't mind doing things by myself. So I don't fear being alone in my old age.
But the flip side, the "I want a relationship" side. If I did happen to stumble across someone wonderful, I wouldn't run away. (At least I don't think I would run away.) There are things about being in a good relationship that are appealing to me.
It took me a very long time to get here. There were many years where I almost felt a sense of panic if I didn't have someone. And there was always, always Big. So if a relationship fell apart, I was generally at his door within about five minutes, from that place of panic. In retrospect, I'm not sure what that was, really. Insecurity I suppose. The place I am now is a much better place. A much healthier place. I don't have a Big anymore, it's just me. And I'm okay. I don't need that kind of male attention to be okay with who I am. I used to. Don't get me wrong, I love, and need, male attention. But not in the same, desperate way I used to.
Today? There isn't all that much going on in my love life. And it's cool. I value my friendships with women more than ever. There are men in my life, and I appreciate and enjoy them, and I can check the "male attention" box. I'm getting what I need. But I am very single.
I am having a birthday party in Vegas Wednesday night wherein I fully intend on flirting my forty-year-old ass off, because that is what I do. And I like being able to do that. And I will be with a group of girls that I have a lot of fun with, and a couple of their husbands who will keep us in line and of course, act as my wing men.
My intent is to blog from Vegas (I am there entirely, entirely too long because after my party I've got four days of work) but you know, and I know, the likelihood of that happening is almost nil. But you will hear about the party at some point, Internet.
A week in and forty still feels pretty damn good.
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