Singled Out
I've been thinking about this for awhile. I apologize for the schizophrenic tendencies it has. I'm just hoping I can get most of it out before my brain starts to empty.
It's raining pretty hard outside. Now, I love the rain -- I spent a large chunk of the day out and about in it -- but I'm rather glad to be inside with my tea and a CD playing now that it's dark and cold.
Ha! Look at that. Already I'm avoiding the topic I really intended to write about.
If I were to be perfectly honest with you, I would tell you that I'm rarely perfectly honest with you. See, I'm not an openly serious person. I crack jokes because it's easier for me if I can keep things light, even at the risk of making things awkward. Awkwardness is easier for me to deal with than the possibility of exposing what I really think about things. I suppose that's why this post from a couple weeks ago was such a big step for me -- I mean, there's some potentially damaging exposure here.
I've long since forgotten what the original purpose of this blog (as a whole, not this post) was. I suppose it was an outlet, more than anything; my particular choice of school and career doesn't offer many opportunities for writing creatively, and this somewhat new blog thing gave me a chance to write whenever I wanted. For someone who seriously considered being an English major, this was great news.
It's evolved to some degree, but I've realized that as much as my situations change, I keep coming back to where I was.
On that note, if you don't want to hear anything too personal on here, if you prefer the lighter side of Ashleyland, feel free to skip this post. I won't be offended. I prefer that side of me, too. In the interest of actually risking something, however, this post will be a bit more personal.
I didn't date in high school. It wasn't something I cared about, and I was just a little too awkward and nerdy for boys to ask. In the time since high school, I've had two long-term relationships and a few very short flings, none of which have ended up going anywhere. It's funny to me how that happens -- I become convinced that what I want more than anything is a relationship, and then somewhere along the way I realize that I'm not in the right place. To the two long-termers, I'm sorry that you got mixed up in that. (Really, I'm not sure either of you read this, but hey, who knows? One of you at least doesn't hate me, as far as I'm aware.)
The last few years, I've seen a lot of my good friends get married and start lives together. This summer will be no exception -- there are at least three weddings I could potentially end up seeing. Not shockingly, this makes me wonder what my own future holds, and I've come to one startling realization: while it's entirely possible that I just haven't met the right guy, it's occurred to me that not everybody is cut out for something that long term. More specifically, it wouldn't surprise me at all if I was one of them.
It's not that I'm bad at relationships. I don't necessarily pick the scary guys or the loser guys or even the ones that you wouldn't want to introduce to your parents. It's not even that I'm a scary girlfriend, as far as I can tell. It doesn't bother me when he wants to have a regular guy night playing poker, I don't require flowers or something sparkly at every holiday and each time he screws up, and I don't really remember anniversaries. Heck, I don't even require him to pay (although I appreciate it), mostly because I'm usually aware of our respective financial states and who is best suited to take care of the bill this time. I'm pretty low maintenance, really.
I do, however, have a hard time seeing myself with Mr. X several years down the road. It seems I'm much better at picturing myself alone than married. I'm not sure why that is, though. I'm not really a feminist. I'm fairly independent, but that's more out of necessity than anything. For whatever reason, marriage just doesn't seem to fit.
My last relationship started very hesitatingly and, in a somewhat fitting manner, ended very gradually. I spent my last semester at a school with a 7-to-1 male to female ratio very, very single. I then moved to a state that I hadn't previously spent more than a week in (EVER), 7 hours away from my family and 13 hours away from my friends. I've been excruciatingly lonely at various points in the last seven months or so. Since I moved, loneliness has been a pretty constant companion, although the degree tends to shift. It's not terribly easy to meet people here, and I haven't put as much effort into it as I could.
The full truth is that I'm just ... good at being alone. I've had enough practice; college helped, since it was never guaranteed that I had free time at the same time as anybody else. It doesn't really bother me to do stuff alone -- movies, restaurants, whatever.
Don't get me wrong -- I hope this isn't a permanent thing. I hope I can find a crowd to hang out with around here. And I don't anticipate it being permanent by any means ... I haven't really been here very long.
But finding friends is fairly easy. Finding that other person, the one you want to spend the rest of your life with? Much harder.
It's possible that I've reconciled myself with the idea of that never happening for me. It's possible I'll meet him tomorrow. It's possible that I'll get eight comments from people trying to make me feel better about being single. (Don't, please.) I don't really know what the future holds. I can only make plans for my life as I can picture it, and you know what? For now, that means making plans that don't involve That Guy.
I'm not unhappy. I'm not "Single And Looking." I'm excited about my life. I have a job that offers the ability to see the world. I'm not worried about being able to take care of myself. I don't particularly envy my friends in relationships -- I mean, it's great and all I'm happy for each of you, but I'm not in a situation where I wish I was one of you. I'm sure I'll be a fun aunt some day (to my brother -- we're all relying on you!).
And I don't expect to never be lonely again. But I can deal with it. It's really not that hard.
With that, I think I'm going to do some reading before I go to bed (oh, what I wouldn't do for a 24-hour coffee shop!). Have a great week, everybody, and I'll talk to you all soon.
It's raining pretty hard outside. Now, I love the rain -- I spent a large chunk of the day out and about in it -- but I'm rather glad to be inside with my tea and a CD playing now that it's dark and cold.
Ha! Look at that. Already I'm avoiding the topic I really intended to write about.
If I were to be perfectly honest with you, I would tell you that I'm rarely perfectly honest with you. See, I'm not an openly serious person. I crack jokes because it's easier for me if I can keep things light, even at the risk of making things awkward. Awkwardness is easier for me to deal with than the possibility of exposing what I really think about things. I suppose that's why this post from a couple weeks ago was such a big step for me -- I mean, there's some potentially damaging exposure here.
I've long since forgotten what the original purpose of this blog (as a whole, not this post) was. I suppose it was an outlet, more than anything; my particular choice of school and career doesn't offer many opportunities for writing creatively, and this somewhat new blog thing gave me a chance to write whenever I wanted. For someone who seriously considered being an English major, this was great news.
It's evolved to some degree, but I've realized that as much as my situations change, I keep coming back to where I was.
On that note, if you don't want to hear anything too personal on here, if you prefer the lighter side of Ashleyland, feel free to skip this post. I won't be offended. I prefer that side of me, too. In the interest of actually risking something, however, this post will be a bit more personal.
I didn't date in high school. It wasn't something I cared about, and I was just a little too awkward and nerdy for boys to ask. In the time since high school, I've had two long-term relationships and a few very short flings, none of which have ended up going anywhere. It's funny to me how that happens -- I become convinced that what I want more than anything is a relationship, and then somewhere along the way I realize that I'm not in the right place. To the two long-termers, I'm sorry that you got mixed up in that. (Really, I'm not sure either of you read this, but hey, who knows? One of you at least doesn't hate me, as far as I'm aware.)
The last few years, I've seen a lot of my good friends get married and start lives together. This summer will be no exception -- there are at least three weddings I could potentially end up seeing. Not shockingly, this makes me wonder what my own future holds, and I've come to one startling realization: while it's entirely possible that I just haven't met the right guy, it's occurred to me that not everybody is cut out for something that long term. More specifically, it wouldn't surprise me at all if I was one of them.
It's not that I'm bad at relationships. I don't necessarily pick the scary guys or the loser guys or even the ones that you wouldn't want to introduce to your parents. It's not even that I'm a scary girlfriend, as far as I can tell. It doesn't bother me when he wants to have a regular guy night playing poker, I don't require flowers or something sparkly at every holiday and each time he screws up, and I don't really remember anniversaries. Heck, I don't even require him to pay (although I appreciate it), mostly because I'm usually aware of our respective financial states and who is best suited to take care of the bill this time. I'm pretty low maintenance, really.
I do, however, have a hard time seeing myself with Mr. X several years down the road. It seems I'm much better at picturing myself alone than married. I'm not sure why that is, though. I'm not really a feminist. I'm fairly independent, but that's more out of necessity than anything. For whatever reason, marriage just doesn't seem to fit.
My last relationship started very hesitatingly and, in a somewhat fitting manner, ended very gradually. I spent my last semester at a school with a 7-to-1 male to female ratio very, very single. I then moved to a state that I hadn't previously spent more than a week in (EVER), 7 hours away from my family and 13 hours away from my friends. I've been excruciatingly lonely at various points in the last seven months or so. Since I moved, loneliness has been a pretty constant companion, although the degree tends to shift. It's not terribly easy to meet people here, and I haven't put as much effort into it as I could.
The full truth is that I'm just ... good at being alone. I've had enough practice; college helped, since it was never guaranteed that I had free time at the same time as anybody else. It doesn't really bother me to do stuff alone -- movies, restaurants, whatever.
Don't get me wrong -- I hope this isn't a permanent thing. I hope I can find a crowd to hang out with around here. And I don't anticipate it being permanent by any means ... I haven't really been here very long.
But finding friends is fairly easy. Finding that other person, the one you want to spend the rest of your life with? Much harder.
It's possible that I've reconciled myself with the idea of that never happening for me. It's possible I'll meet him tomorrow. It's possible that I'll get eight comments from people trying to make me feel better about being single. (Don't, please.) I don't really know what the future holds. I can only make plans for my life as I can picture it, and you know what? For now, that means making plans that don't involve That Guy.
I'm not unhappy. I'm not "Single And Looking." I'm excited about my life. I have a job that offers the ability to see the world. I'm not worried about being able to take care of myself. I don't particularly envy my friends in relationships -- I mean, it's great and all I'm happy for each of you, but I'm not in a situation where I wish I was one of you. I'm sure I'll be a fun aunt some day (to my brother -- we're all relying on you!).
And I don't expect to never be lonely again. But I can deal with it. It's really not that hard.
With that, I think I'm going to do some reading before I go to bed (oh, what I wouldn't do for a 24-hour coffee shop!). Have a great week, everybody, and I'll talk to you all soon.
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