Romantic despair, I call it.
The most wonderful notion of knowing what you need romanticly.
No longer do you go open eyed into every encounter you have with an attractive member of the opposite sex. Instead we stand armed with a checklist of things that are necessary, unecessary or forgivable.
First, forgive me for all my romantic ideals, for my commands. I just want someone to challenge me, as well as meet and overcome all the mental obstacles I build around my heart. I demand, I desire, I deny. I am a Rubik’s cube of romantic opportunity. I am all intentions, I have plans, I have plans about plans. I will fight, grab and want. I need for you to do the same. Do not tell me you don’t know, tell me what you want. Tell me you want for nothing. Tell me that it is working, or it isn’t. I can’t read you mind, so I say what’s on mine. Blunt, perhaps. Or maybe I just know that moments are precious and if I have expectations then I won’t spend trying to find out what I want. Or finding out you don’t really want me. Fight for me.
I want a confidante. I want someone who will grab me up and laugh loudly with me. Be foolish with me. Touch my elbow, or arm. Let me know that you, like me, sometimes just have to reach out and touch. Double check, that this, us, is as real as it’ll ever be. I don’t want the moon, don’t throw a lasso over it and bring it to my door. Don’t bring a boombox under my window. Don’t even pick me up after my sister’s wedding when everyone forgot my birthday with your perfect hair and your perfect car Jake Ryan.
Just indulge me on my silly requests. Get my jokes, even when they are horrid. Understand how my “blog” makes me feel. Listen to my music. Kiss me often. Do something with me. Let’s build something, or make something. Hell, let’s invent something. I just want it to be about challenging each other, or understanding the horrible days. Let me cry, I am not pleasant nor pretty when I am snotty and weepy, but just let me get it out.
Love my pets. Get along with animals, if you don’t I just may have to kick you to the curb. Unconditional love from an animal is something a lot of people don’t understand, but a hell of a lot of people do. I will cook for you, I will come home from a long day and throw on some sweats and botch. I will try to be positive. Our lives are not a J.Crew weekend Lookbooks. I am not always beautiful in the morning, Usually I am not, in fact.
I am sarcastic. I am sassy, when need be. I will stand up for what I believe. I will fight my own fights. But you having my back is always nice.
I drink beer, and please don’t buy me a miller or bud light. I drink whiskey. I eat meat. I devour salads. I dance, enthusiastically and wildly.
I want to live in the city, but not too long, I want to settle in the countryside, but not too soon. I want to have a garden. I want to instill the same values my parents instilled into me into my kids. I don’t want to have kids until I am emotionally, and financially ready.
I want to name them ridiculously old fashioned names like Archer, and Gwendolyn. I want to fall head over heels and yet I don’t want to give up my independence.
I call it romantic despair, and it really just gets more despairing.
Honestly, I know you, sir, are out there. I know. I feel it when I finish books like The Age of Innocence, I know that once I find you, or you find me, or we are thrown together by the universe that it won’t be perfect. It will be hard, and work. I can’t wait, though because once you get to know me you know if I want something, really really want something, I work damn hard to get it, or as close as I can get.