Tuesday, April 24, 2012

Who am I?

I have a confession of sorts. A few months ago, I started paying attention to this guy I barely know but who is my Facebook "friend". I didn't have the guts to talk to him until recently.  And even so, it wasn't until I was drinking one night that I managed to write and say “Hey, we have stuff in common. We should hang out.”  He responded enthusiastically, which is awesome.  There are a lot of things I have learned over the past few years. One of them is that I do better with organic relationships (meaning the kind that just happen because of circumstance as opposed to the kind you go looking for on purpose like dating sites).  He reminds me of that.  Because we know each other from a real world situation and have many friends in common, i think we would have hung out at some point, even if I hadn't sent that email.

I have been thinking about how much my last real boyfriend affected me.  Sure, I have dated people in the last 3 years, but really, I haven’t had a committed relationship since then.  When I left my ex, I realized I didn’t know who I was anymore.  I didn’t know what kind of music I liked, movies I liked, decorative style I had, among other things.  And when I left that relationship I was definitely scarred on the inside. All the things that he was into became a symbol of things I didn't want to do anymore because I needed to find myself.  In many ways, I went the complete opposite just to get away from the memories.  But now as I enter into a friendship with someone who doesn't remind me of my ex at all but is into ALL the same stuff, I feel it may be time to let go of that boundary I set for myself.  It is time I healed that wound.

After a time I accepted the reality that I may not get married.  I am not against it, but I’ve never been one of those girls who sought it out either.  I also don’t seek out having kids.  That’s not to say I don’t see the value in the experience of raising children or deny that I would consider having kids with the right man.  I just don’t want to be a single mother.  Sue me.

A guy once commented on how much I liked to cook. I feel pretty domestic at times.  He felt that my attitude of liking to cook, especially liking to cook for a guy, was a reflection of oppressiveness.  I tried to explain that when I cook I feel in tune with women in my family (and women from the beginning of time) because my family is matriarchal.  We’re a very creative bunch and I feel I’m communicating creatively and artistically by cooking and crafting and anything else I do at home. 

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