I think about the
type of man that I’d like to meet and have in my life. I’m not talking about
that long laundry list of wants and requirements like having a job,
aspirations, dreams, being kind-hearted, and having a heart that considers the
soul and mind above body. No, I’m talking about the whole package, the man in
all his complexities. But, before I meet him I think about the partner I’d want
him to have.
When you love someone, you don’t just think about what would
be good for you, what would make you happy, what the relationship could and
would benefit you. Love is about
thinking and considering your partner’s wants and needs, too. As amazing as the man I want in my life, I also
want be able to offer him an equally amazing woman.
I was talking to a friend this morning, and he’s had one disastrous
relationship after another. He made a statement that he’s so tired of
garbage. I told him if he doesn’t like garbage,
he needs to stop digging through the dumpsters hoping to find a masterpiece, and
to stop blaming all women for the bad decisions he’s made. I also told him to
start being the man he thinks a ‘good’ woman deserves, get his shit together,
so that when he does meet a good woman he would have something good to offer
her… a good man.
He, of course, went off into a rant about how preposterous
it was for women to expect men to take care of them, provide for them, and how
women’s rights are the cause of our fucked up society. It was a lost lesson by that point, but my
comments struck a chord in myself.
That’s the funny thing about me. Most often my blogs, my musings, my thoughts,
my articles, etc… they’re for me more than anyone. It’s a way I communicate
with my soul. It’s a way to step outside me and see me in an abstract.
I also had a conversation with another friend last
night. We talked for hours as he drove
back to the Army base in North Carolina. I was just being my excited,
rambunctious, over-talkative self. It felt
good. I haven’t really talked to anyone in a long while, not since I lost my
best friend and soul mate. I just bottled
up all those millions of thoughts and ideas inside, really afraid to share them
with anyone. You see… all those crazy
little thoughts and ideas, so matter wacky they are, are what I consider the
BEST part of me. It’s the essence of who I truly am. It’s more intimate than my body. It’s more personal than my intellect. It’s all those quirky weird ideas that makes
up who I truly am… and that person I don’t share with just anyone. THAT person is who is precious to me. Let me
tell you a little about her… I’ll call her the nickname my best friend gave me…
Jinx. Maybe you and I both will get to see some of the things I love most about
her. This is, after all, my love letter
to her.
Jinx has this amazing wild imagination. She thinks some of the oddest thoughts. She questions EVERYTHING. I remember this one
time she stayed up all night contemplating the idea of black holes and super
novas, stars, universes, galaxies, time and space. She couldn’t sleep. Her mind just kept exploring existence deeper
and deeper and deeper. Just when the
universe couldn’t get any bigger, she zeroed in on herself and saw how small
she was in the midst of it all; so insignificant. A huge knot formed in her throat and she
couldn’t breathe. Who was she? Why was
she here? Does she even matter? In 20, 30, 50 years… will anyone even remember
she existed? Suddenly, so many things she was so worried about didn’t matter
anymore. Bills, expectations, career,
life stuff, none of it mattered. ALL
that mattered was this small, brief, minute moment in space and time, and what
she had to offer in that small spec.
Nothing she’s accomplished or failed, nothing she’s gained or lost, nothing
she had or wanted meant anything without love. Love is all that mattered. Love she had for herself. Love she had for
her children. Love she had for God. Love she had for humanity.
Forty-five years… I’ve been in this universe for forty-five
years, and what do I have to show for it? I have many achievements, many
awards, many successes, yet the only things that really matter is my heart and
my ability to love. This world has been
so cruel to me. I have been knocked down so many times, rejected by so many
people, and the one thing that’s eluded me… is being loved. Yet, in spite of it… I choose to love. I’m
still that little girl crying in the corner being told she’s not good enough,
she’s a mistake, and she’s not wanted. *sigh* I am also that little girl that
stood to her feet, balled her little fists so tight, dried the wet tears
streaming down her face with her arm, and declared, “NO! I am not a mistake. I
am a good girl and I love me!”
Till next time,
~T.L. Gray
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