Slowly but surely I am re-entering the world. I’ve moved from soup to solids with no sickness at all. After five months of getting sick every day, I am ready to sell my firstborn child and donate a wing to the hospital naming it after my brilliant surgeon, the first of five doctors who didn’t insist that I had acid reflux even though none of the acid reflux medication worked. I’m Southern, so of course I’m sending a thank you note to the surgeon, but I really want to start a web page devoted solely to the man’s awesomeness. Or a minor museum to his accomplishments. Yes, I feel that good.
The Georgia/ LSU game is on the tv, a spread of the most incredible Indian takeout food I’ve ever tasted on the floor of the living room (mmm chicken makhani is a miracle food). And while I’m here recovering from my first post-surgical hangover (yep, I threw on a new dress and went out last night), my brain is running around about relationships.
Some of my nearest and dearest married friends seem to be with people who they find easy to be with. They met, they got comfortable with each other, and from day one their relationships have been easy to be in. And I really envy them that ease. I, unfortunately, don’t ever seem to do easy. My last two long relationships always seemed like works in progress. We were “working on” issues a lot. Or telling one another what we needed to “work out.” And in reflection, I wonder why I seem to linger much longer than necessary in relationships that are so much work.
It’s like somewhere I lost that warning light that goes on when you’re dating and tells you you’re just not with the right one for you. Instead, I’m always trying to make myself over into the right one for people. If I can be more accommodating, more adventurous, less of a homebody, less likely to burst into tears in arguments, more of a housekeeper, always have dinner on the table, learn to enjoy action films and cartoons, read less, etc, etc, then I’ll be able to convince this one that I’m the girl they’ve been looking for.
But really, what I would love to find, is someone that was looking for me, just the way I am. And someone who acknowledges I have flaws, but still loves me. Someone I could stop trying to be perfect for, stop trying to fit into some awkward mold that I will never fill. I’m looking for a comfortable couch kind of love, not a sports car love, or a skydiving love, or a Friday Night Fights love. I want a cardigan sweater love. A love that feels like home.
I’m not even six months single, and really I’m not looking to start dating anyone any time soon. But I’m thinking about living easy after a week laid up. And honestly, I just wish there was someone here to share my couch. And not fight over the covers.