Thoughts on a Thursday
A few weeks ago, I came across an article written by Kate Bolick called All the Single Ladies.
It’s not that I was relieved upon completing it, I felt more than ever like I could relate to this woman. Granted, the author is a refined thirty-nine, while I, at a ripe twenty-eight, know I have a long way to go and am in no rush to find a partner-in-crime. I associated emotions she described from her journey through several relationships, dating as a single woman, and being alone and single during long, cold winters with some of my own.
There have been instances when I’ve thought – “How/why the hell did I mess that one up? Will I, going forward, refer to him as the one that got away?” It’s hard not to direct the blame inward when I know that in these relationships, I made a lot of mistakes I’m not proud of.
It’s not to say that I don’t feel nostalgia when I think back on the ones that have mattered…
R, whom I met during my first year at UCSB, the on-again off-again boyfriend of three years – opened my eyes to global politics, my ears to Aesop Rock/Hieroglyphics/Dave Matthews, and accompanied me in painting Italy red during our study abroad in Siena…
D, whom my good friend Alex introduced me to the first week I arrived in the bay from SB – explored through Argentina, Brazil, and Chile and ate our way through unforgettable culinary experiences at some of the tastiest restaurants in the bay, both of us gorging on the revolutionary food scene that was happening here around ’06. He was the one who forced me to confront problems by communicating openly, honestly, and most of all, vulnerably…
A, whom I met on a mutual friend’s birthday ‘party bus’ driving thirty of us up to Tomales Bay for a day of cold beers, grilled oysters, and endless flabongos (it was, I kid you not, flabongo at first sight) – discovered where to find the best drinks in town, taught me what it meant to be in multiple fantasy leagues, convinced me to fly up to Seattle just to see Gonzaga get whooped during last year’s Battle in Seattle (spending only 24 hrs there), and which indie bands were going to get SF hipsters shakin’ their tail feathers at the Fox Theater.
Now, when I meet someone, I know what it is I’ll be looking for – that is, when I’m ready to commit. Most of the guys whom I’ve taken more seriously have been pretty damn well-rounded: intelligent, better communicators than I, knowledgeable about sports, open-minded, up for trying anything, music junkies, foodies (but not food snobs), can show you a great time being crazy and out all night, but also relish a night in, wine glass in hand, vegging on a couch. So why did these relationships end if they were such great guys?
I guess they just weren’t the right ones for me. I’m learning to be okay with that.