I'm single now, so let's talk prospects. Let's go through a single visit to Starbucks.
1.
I drive a bug, which I think is really indicative of my character. People who drive bugs are little old ladies, secure young men, and teenage girls with free smiles. Driving a bug, a bug that is bright blue, a bug in a color that isn't common, means people know me when I'm driving. (Side note: in addition to the situation I'm about to describe, this also means that people know when I do stupid things driving, and thus it keeps me accountable.) Which is unfortunate when I do stupid things, like try to go at a stop sign out of turn. Which is what happened that day, but the other driver waved me on and instantly I knew who it was; we'll call him Cullen (a kind of inside joke). Cullen, who I went to a school dance with, Cullen who I hear the girls gossiping about; it was just one of many situations in which I got the guy that everyone wanted, promptly lost him, and never knew why I had him. I mouthed a thank you, shot him my best attempt at a dazzling smile. He gave me an "okay" with his fingers, looking straight ahead with a lopsided smile, and I laughed a little.
I really did have my chance, but it was the usual high school situation; you're cute, borrow his coat, ask him to the dance, force him to define you as friends or more, take a turn about the floor (complete with slow song), then watch it crash and burn very promptly. Or rather, sizzle out in silence until one of us braved up enough to call it what it was: absolutely nothing.
I resigned myself to that when it happened. But saying he's not ridiculously cute would be a lie, so there it is, out there and clear. God save me if he finds this at all.
2.
I stepped out of my car-- I like to pretend when I'm getting out of the car that I'm someone like Taylor Swift; that the wind is blowing through my hair and someone's watching my glamorous life. Not so much because I'm dreaming, but more because the daydream is fun. It's not that I don't like life in the suburbs, because I do; just today as I drove to the chiropractor I was struck with just how ordinary my life is, how normal I am; wearing cheap leggings, a Victoria's Secret tee shirt I bought on deal for 5 bucks and (because I'm just that "basic") wear religiously. I smile at children jumping into their parents' minivans, at the little boy in his karate uniform, at the women and their dogs, merrily padding along beside their owners. But that was today, and today was different.
The second Prospect- we'll call him Topper (because I would die if he found this and read it and yes that's an over exaggeration, but, you know, it's funny). I get out of my car and my hair is catching the wind, I look over in that dramatic way, which should not be a mark of how fabulous I am but rather my unwitting luck that day. Luck I would have loved, if I weren't, again, newly single and still hung up on it.
So Topper's leaving Starbucks, he steps out of the store and for a second he's headed to his left. But he catches my eye, and he moves to the crosswalk I'm about to cross. He waits on his side, and I wait on mine, knowing we'll cross in the middle and hoping I can get through it without giving him the wrong impression. Because we've talked before, for hours, and I'm sure somewhere in those minutes there was some semblance of flirting, no doubt accidental on my part, with questionable intentions on his.
As we cross he says something to me, something joking and so casual I can't remember it so few days later. He elbowed me, and the driver of the car waiting for us to clear the cross walk smirked a bit. It wasn't surprising for him to joke with me, but, I mean, he changed his path. Some kind of friendship, eh?
3.
In my day I have flirted with so many more people who work at Starbucks than I really care to admit, not because I have a type or because I am like gravitated towards them, but because I'm apparently (and unwittingly) a natural flirt; I can't try to flirt but it turns out I'm really good at it.
So he works behind the counter, as most of the Starbucks workers I've flirted with do. We'll call him Gideon. I don't think he's particularly that cute, but that may be a lie I'm telling myself because I'm not allowed to flirt with him because a really nice girl I hope to stay friends with (it's a tentative acquaintanceship) called dibs on him.
And he's a flirt; he's a frat boy and it comes with the territory. Sure, it's one of the dorkier frats on his own account, but still. He's a flirt, and I'm not actually all that interested, and my friend called dibs.
So you have the first prospect, Cullen, who I can't see because a) been there, done that, failed; and 2) I am his superior in band and I don't want to go there. And then there's Topper, who I'm a) not interested in; 2) so much younger than; and 3) who I don't particularly like. Boys who befriend you in Starbucks not also the most harmless. And then there's Gideon, who I a) am not attracted to; and b) am not allowed to be with.
Throw in King George (obviously not his real name), the only boy I want and the one I really, really cannot have, and throw in myself, the one person I need to love unconditionally, and I'm in a bit of a messy place right now.
And for the first time in a long time, I don't want to date. Maybe it's because the only person I want to date right now is even further than the miles between us. He's absolutely gone. And that part of me is too, I guess, so. You know, there's that. But that part of me is just the part that loved him, and yeah, it's still "leaving the building" so to say, but at least it was just that part.
I want the dates and the romance without the heartbreak, without the pain, without the ending. I want the first date butterflies, the stolen first kiss and the sweet words. But I don't need that; I don't need any of that. I am strong enough on my own. I am good enough on my own.
Maybe this is what being a woman is supposed to be like. Maybe this is adulthood.
xoxo
R
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