I had a woman tell me once a story of a woman she knew, let’s call her Mae.  Mae was in her 80’s and had never married.  In fact, Mae had never even kissed a man.  This woman told me the story of Mae in a, isn’t that cool?, type of way.  And I remember thinking, ‘no, that’s not cool’.

The story was prompted by me wondering whether I’d ever come across a male that was worthy of the time and energy spent on him.  I don’t mean that to sound cynical; it’s a very valid question.  The solution of swearing of men all together wasn’t one I wanted to embrace.

The alternative isn’t very appealing to me either.  I find myself feeling things recently that I don’t like the, well, feel of.  I’m wondering if the thrill of the moment, the conversation, the yin to the yang is worth the feelings of suspense and potential misery later on?  I’ve lived the past year of my life male-drama free and it’s been fine and dandy.  There have been many an evening that I wished I had someone to cuddle up with, but I get over it.  I simply cannot be one of those girls who whines, ‘i want a boooooyfriend’.  Shoot me if I ever start to be one of them.  I like who I am, and I like my life.  I’m extremely self-sufficient and self-reliant.  But recently I’ve begun to wonder if that’s enough.  

So I find myself in this catch-22.  I’m not so sure that my life is complete, but being on the road to finding that completion isn’t proving to be very pleasant.   Here’s the real problem: I have a very thin skin, actually.  If I like someone, I like them.  I dont like to play games and I don’t play them well.  I don’t want to play coy, I don’t want to be aloof.  In the romantic realm, I’m a jeans and t-shirt type of gal.  And at 27 I’m beginning to wonder if my strategy isn’t working all that well for me.  I’m always the friend, never the girlfriend.  Which makes sense when you’re the friend that guys are comfortable hanging out with (jeans and t-shirt analogy fitting in well, right about now).  And when I’m on the romantic side of things, I find my heart being played with the way a cat slaps around his toy.

I’m not wishing I was getting married, settling down, or having children.  I’m just wishing that I didn’t have to wonder if feelings are reciprocated or when I’m waiting for the next ‘thing’ to happen if it will happen at all.  

I just want to be me; me with the thin skin; me with the heart on my sleeve.

I just want to be me, me plus one.

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