So I went to a professional hockey game. The Nashville Predators. Through my work, I got amazing seats six rows behind the glass. While I haven't conducted a scientific study, I'm sure our players are the most attractive in the NHL. And every time they slammed their tall hunky bodies against the glass or got in a fight, I was fucking turned on. Greatest three hours, ever. Until the following night. When I went out to hear Frightened Rabbit, a Scottish rock band that I like, play a local venue. Such a great show. And by god, they were bearded and tall and handsome and unf. There were also lots of tall burly men in the packed audience that were forced to squeeze up behind me. By the time I got to last night and a Bradley Cooper movie, all gorgeous and movie screen large, well it basically was me slamming myself up against a glass barrier. Want! Can't have.
Look, I'm of a certain age where my sex drive is kicking into high gear. I get that. I mean, boy do I get that. But it's not JUST that. I moved to Nashville from LA where everyone is young and single, whether they are or not. In Nashville, few people are still single at 30. Fewer still at 35. At 35+, it's all married people and their kids that fill your life. I'm also at a certain age when the unasked question is "What's wrong with you that you are still single?". I thought Bridget Jones Diary was a little heavy with all the perceived Single-hating. But I guess I just had to be 38 and here. It's not hate, it's just rampant insecurity mirrored in other people's eyes.
I have loved my life. I lived in LA for ten years and wouldn't trade them for the world. I would not have done that if I had met a Bubba in college and married him. After that, I moved to Brazil for six months and there's a good good chance I would not have done that if I had settled down with a tanned cap-toothed actor. I got to be here with my mom for her last year of life and spend nearly every day with her during the final six months. I don't think I could have done that if I had had my own family needing my attention. Hopefully, hopefully, before the end of the year, I'm headed to international lands and waters. Which won't happen if I find an older Bubba here in Music City. I'd be vehemently unwilling to give up any of those to be someone's wife or someone's mom. But I really really really want to be someone's someone.
Recently, a co-worker in my office lost her husband of 29 years to cancer. She mentioned how she was so overwhelmed with parking downtown that she ended up paying a huge amount for an evening at a work event. "I knew it was more expensive," she said, "but I didn't want to walk on my own. I've never walked on my own downtown before." She met the love of her life in college, had two great kids and built a great life with her best friend. Some people's lives are like that. Mine has not been and because of that, not only can I handle downtown parking, but also three days in Rio traveling alone without a knowing a soul. I don't think I got the short end of the stick. But I don't think I've got the long end either.
I know I'm wired differently. I don't long to put down roots. And I love kids, I just don't want to be a mom.
But I do want a partner. I want some smelly man in my life who complicates things and makes me think and thinks I'm brilliant and funny and gorgeous first thing in the morning. Someone who I find hysterical and smart and just think is the best man in the world who also drives me crazy. I want my world and my bed rocked by some burly hairy beast who cares about whether I'm having a good time or not. I used to think this was my inevitable destiny. A right bequeathed to me by the simple fact that it's what I want. Now I'm worried that it might be too much to hope for. I'm too fatigued and frightened to dare believe in the one or soul mates. Although I've seen it happen to others. I've seen soul mates. I know they exist.
This is my road and in more ways than the obvious, it's what I've chosen. Through picking adventure and travel over stability. By picking comfortable but insecure hoodies and jeans over dresses and curled hair. By choosing Oreos over daily runs and hiding behind too many extra pounds. By being terrified of what happens if a guy actually likes me and decimated when he doesn't. It's issues and choices and timing. And I have no idea how to make it stop. Or how to make it start. And I'm scared I missed that window provided me by youth. I'm scared that I might never find him. Or them. And I'm goddamn mad that this is so much harder for me than it is for other people.
"The Woodpile" by Frightened Rabbit
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